


Tortured Soul

by Wheresmyluce



Category: Terminator - All Media Types, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Adult Content, Adventure, Angst, Cyborgs, Drama, F/F, Femslash, Sarah Cameron Chronicles, Science Fiction, Sex, TSCC, Terminator - Freeform, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles - Freeform, f/f - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheresmyluce/pseuds/Wheresmyluce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark sequel to the Sarah Cameron Chronicles. Sarah and Cameron are in the beginnings of an established relationship. They have become weary alies with Catherine Weaver in the fight to save the future. Jesse's mistrust of all things metal feeds into Derek's paranoia and they all must choose sides. All characters from the show are here.</p><p>This is AU. All of season 1 happened and the majority of season 2. I just pretty much pretended no one died. In this world Charley, Derek, Jesse, even Riley are still are alive and well.</p><p>WARNING: It's always darkest before the dawn. Cliche. You betcha. Still true though. And speaking of dark. This fic takes a walk on the dark side. Thoughts of suicide and a past rape are discussed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy peeps :) Ready for round 2? Here we go. This is the next excerpt from the Sarah Cameron Chronicles. If you haven't read the first you can probably jump in anyway but it might be best to check that one out. While the Chronicles were lighthearted and (hopefully) funny this fic takes a more serious turn. 
> 
> Pilfering, sex, femslash, bad language, & grammar ahead
> 
> All for the love of a kick ass show cancelled way too soon. No money made. I own nothing but a wicked obsession for the Sarah, Cameron, Weaver trio and the rest of the brilliant TSCC cast.
> 
> Comments/reviews/PMs are welcome and sincerely appreciated :)

"I've got a tortured mind

and my blade is sharp.

A bad combination

in the dark."

Lyrics from "Sinister Kid" by the Black Keys

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Have I become the thing I hate the most? The notion plagues me. Is this the beginning of the end?

A gunshot echoes in the small elevator. I am treated to a fleeting glimpse of my son's smile. Then I see my forever love, Kyle Reese. His hand stretches toward me, offering safety and more as I wait for the bullet to pierce my skin. The impact doesn't happen. Instead I'm drowning in what looks like living chrome. It glistens and undulates like the tide. The wave retreats and I'm left sputtering and choking. Freezing.

Later I lie in a tub. Paralyzed. Mute. Caught in the awkward space between the waking world and the unconscious. I can't open my eyes. I can hear. What I hear is haunting.

"You are the reason Sarah is incapacitated. How dare you pretend to be offended. Why would I thank you for almost killing her? You claim she is reckless. Yet it was you who chose to risk her life in the elevator."

"You are wrong. What I did prevented her death."

"You could have disarmed Megan sooner. The moment you saw her in the elevator you had to have done a threat assessment. We always do. You knew Megan held a gun. You wanted Sarah in danger. You wanted an excuse to merge with her."

"Not everyone dies during the procedure. Have you no faith in your lover? The mother of all destiny will not perish from a simple comingling. There was no actual bondage. No incisions were made."

"She was already cut and bruised." Cameron's soft fingers caressed my cheek. Tracing a spot near my eye. "You see this. I know you do. Every encounter with you left its mark. Don't tell me you don't see the bits of silver here. The scrapes on her back. The others on her fist and knee. How much of you is in her, Weaver?"

An irritated sigh from Weaver. "I cannot say for certain."

The knuckle of my right hand sports the proof. A jagged tear almost like a bolt of lightning bisecting the skin between pinky and ring finger. The silver is a stark contrast against my flesh. According to Cameron there are other areas of my body bearing traces of Weaver. I have not brought myself to examine them.

As terrifying as the Weaver/Sarah combo is to me it doesn't frighten me nearly as much as the John Clones. It's not bad enough there are a seemingly endless supply of random terminators seeking to destroy John and I but now there are clones of John at their mercy. Bits of my son I have no knowledge of and no way of protecting. Helpless Johns at Skynet's Mercy. Fuck.

John's DNA being subjected to God only knows what sick kinds of Frankenstein experiments. For what hideous purpose were they created? In the hopes of finding a better, quicker way to eliminate the future leader of the Resistance?

And the newest fear, surfacing around the fact that a part of Weaver now occupies my body. A new nightmare has begun. What sort of monster will I become? Will the remnants of Weaver multiply? Is it possible they could retain some of her intelligence? Her directives? Will I be the instrument that finally succeeds in terminating John Connor? The ultimate deception. Mankind's last hope destroyed by his own mother.

The Glock in the nightstand drawer calls to me. It would be so easy. So fucking easy. I feel it's comforting weight. The rough bumps on the handle somehow soothing in my hand. The solid clink as I draw back the slide is reassuring. The bullet chambers. My thumb eases off the safety as my finger slides over the trigger. Just a flash and a bang. No more questions. No more doubts. Only sweet surrender.

"Sarah?" Cameron's normally calm and quiet voice is alarmed. Tinged with panic and perhaps fear. She's through the door and across the room in an instant. Her powerful legs straddling my waist. Long, slender fingers encircling my wrists and pinning them above my head. The gun is removed from my grasp. I don't bother to struggle. Resistance is truly futile.

She takes the gun and safely stows it in the waistband of her jeans. "What were you doing, Sarah?"

I roll my eyes. "I'll give you three guesses. The first two don't count."

She doesn't laugh. Eyes the color of sweet brandy suddenly darken as her lids narrow. "Sarah Connor you are the strongest human I know. You are resilient and stubborn. You do not give up. We did not jump across time, escaping your death, to allow you to take your own life. Do you understand?"

"Fuck you."

"We just did." she smirks. "Forty-two minutes ago. In a bathtub. Do you want to do it again?

I'm lying naked. Between a terminator's legs. My arms restrained. A thin sheet and her tight jeans the only thing separating our skin. With any other terminator I'd be horrified. Cameron is unlike any I've ever come across. She makes my breath still, my heart race, my vision blur, and my head float. Instead of being afraid I am incredibly turned on by her. It's as if she secretes a pheromone that takes away every ounce of self control I ever possessed. She might actually. She has a lot of skills in her arsenal. I wouldn't doubt Skynet had thought of adding the chemical that is meant to entice.

"What do you think?" I snap at her. My old defenses rearing their ugly head. Anger boils to the surface. "Get off me."

"No." she says quietly, without malice. Brown eyes never straying from mine.

"No?" I scoff. "You follow orders, Cameron. You don't have refusal rights. Get off me. Right now."

"No." She remains in place, totally unfazed by my bucking beneath her. "Not until I am certain you will not hurt yourself."

"What if I want to hurt you?"

She cracks a smile. "Then you are S.O.L."

I laugh, loud and hearty. I am completely shocked at her correct use of slang. When I finally catch my breath I give a half hearted attempt to buck against her again. "You can't tell me I'm shit out of luck, Cameron. There's got to be a mission directive about that."

Her eyes shift upward for just a second. "No, there isn't."

"Then you need to add one." I grumble while trying not to laugh again. Not even five minutes prior I'd been giving serious thought to blowing my brains out. Now I was struggling not to succumb to Cameron's charms.

"Only future John has the authority to-"

"Please shut up."

She smiles again. Picasso would come back from the dead to have the chance to paint the beauty of a Cameron grin. She knows I don't really want her to shut up. Lately she knows me better than I know myself. That's probably why she showed up in the room when she did.

Her left hand continues to hold mine in relaxed grip above my head. Her right hand dips to smooth my hair against the pillow. "You're beautiful."

"You must have a head injury. Your eyes are obviously not seeing clearly."

Her lips brush mine. "My vision is exemplary." She presses harder. The top half of her body meeting mine. The warmth of her tongue lazily tracing back and forth against my bottom lip. Her legs shifting until one demands my thighs to part.

I moan. Trying in vain to get her to release my hands. The need to touch her, explore every glorious inch of her so powerful I want to scream. It takes some doing. A strong will and just pure stubbornness but I finally mange to move my mouth away long enough to speak. "Cameron, please."

"Please, what?" Her knee rubs against my center. "Tell me exactly what you want." She brings her hand between my breasts. Soft, yet persistent back and forth. Side to side and back again.

I'm trembling. My whole body reacting to her touch. O God. I don't know. A minute ago pulling away from her to say something seemed imperative. Now, I just wanted her kisses and her caresses. Her. More than anything else at the moment I just wanted her.

I'm about to close my eyes. Give in completely. I just need one last look at the newfound warmth in her eyes.

The affection is there but tears are too. A lone tear falls from her eye. I'm stunned. She ducks her head. It's too late.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"I don't want to tell you." Her body shakes and a sob escapes her lips.

I tug my hands till she relents and sets me free. Her silken tresses impossibly soft and inviting. I pull her to me. Her head rests on my shoulder. My heart breaks at the sounds of her crying.

"Come on, Cam." I run my fingers through her hair. Kissing her forehead and just listening as the sobs gradually abate. "Talk to me."

"Are you ordering me to tell you?"

Hell, I don't know. Whatever it is it can't be good. Do I really want to know? No. Do I have to know? Yes.

"Do I have to order you to tell me? I'd rather not. Are you going to make me?"

"No," she kisses my shoulder. She doesn't lift her head. She's willing to talk but can't look at me. "Do you remember when you asked if I had ever had sex?"

For the umpteenth time I found myself wishing for a terminator's total recall. "Uhhhhhhh." I stretched the word. I did and I didn't. From what I could remember we were about to jump off the edge. Taking a giant leap into the great unknown. "What about it?"

"Don't freak out."

O God. This really can't be good. "Maybe you should get off me. And maybe I should get dressed."

"No. Please. Just promise not to freak. I'll replay the conversation."

I sigh. The feel of her body melded against mine suddenly not quite as erotic as it was just moments ago. Fear creeping in slow and determined like a jungle cat circling it's prey. "Do it."

A second later my voice, coming from her mouth, fills the silence.

"How exactly do you know you're able to have sex? Have you ever had sex?"

"That depends."

"Now is not the time for you to get all cryptic on me, Cam. So far you're passing with flying colors. One more right answer and we're gonna see if you can make me faint again."

I laugh, not quite believing I actually said that but knowing I did. Wondering how I could have been so aroused I hadn't followed up on her odd answer. "What do, er did, you mean by that?"

She sighs. Her breath warm and heavy on my shoulder. She backs away and climbs from the bed. "I am so sorry, Sarah."

In the next five minutes I want my gun back. I don't want to aim at myself or Cameron. Not even Weaver. In fact I don't want to shoot a terminator. My sights are set on a human. One I know, or at least thought I knew. Now, I'm not so sure.

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More to come...

Thanks for reading and commenting.


	2. Chapter 2

Words in italics are a direct quote from one of Sarah Connor's kick ass monologues. The ep is Vick's Chip.

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Who forces time is pushed back by time; who yields to time finds time on his side. ~The Talmud

All of us wear masks. They can be worn out of love and the desire to remain close to those around us, to spare them from the complicated reality of our frayed psyches. We trade honesty for companionship, and in the process never truly know the hearts closest to us.

Time heals all wounds. What a crock. Close to two decades have passed since Kyle Reese gave his life in the War Against the Machines. The pain seared through my heart then and it still burns now. Looking at his brother, Derek is a constant dig at the scab. It used to only make me long for a different time. A happier ending for Kyle. For me. Is that selfish? Merely human?

Now when I see Derek it is only the love I have for his brother and my son that keeps me from doing what I know in my heart should be done. Derek's psyche has been shaped by the atrocities of war. He's seen things. Done things. Had things done to him. Horrible things. Things I've only ever had nightmares of. He has suffered. He deserves mercy.

He deserves mercy. I repeat this in my head.

The first time I met Derek Reese we fought. Not an argument. An actual knock down, drag out fist fight. He wouldn't admit it without proof but he'd just killed a man. An unarmed man. Shot him, point blank. No remorse. Just snuffed him out like a candle. Then left.

He deserves mercy.

Later, on a mission together, with guards on our heels Derek successfully distracted them long enough for me to knock them unconscious. They were out cold. No danger. He looked at their still forms. Calm as anything he picked up one of their discarded guns. Aimed. It would be a headshot. Just like Andy Goode.

He deserves mercy.

My heart sank as I watched him take aim. He was cold. Fucking Ted Bundy blizzard cold. Shoot first. Shoot in the middle. Shoot last. Just shoot. The end. No questions, no concerns. Move along. Nothing to see here.

He deserves mercy.

I stopped him from killing the guards. Put my hand on his arm. He looked at me. There was nothing in his eyes. He showed as much emotion as the first terminator who'd tried to kill me and my unborn son. The one who had managed to kill Derek's brother. My lover. John's father.

He deserves mercy.

He never feels clean. He showers often. There are worse things a guy can do. Lots worse. I don't know why I like to confront him there. I just do. I tear open the curtain. Watching him jerk. He's off balance in body and mind. Just for a second. Then the mask is back.

"You killed Andy Goode." I made it a statement. I knew it was the truth. I'd blamed Cameron. It's always easy to doubt the metal. Trust the human. "There was no one there to protect him and you killed him." 

I paused long enough for him to speak, to offer an explanation, a rebuttal, more lies, anything. In my head I'm begging for a sign of mercy. Something to let me know he shares some of Kyle's inherent goodness. That he's a hero too. That he has a conscience, a soul.

He didn't say a word. He couldn't or wouldn't acknowledge out loud what he'd done. He blinked once then continued to stare at me, like so what? I killed an unarmed man. Big fucking s.o.b.

"Lie to me again and I'll kill you."

Lies. I fucking hate them. I hate the liars too.

I hate that I've become one out of necessity. I've lived a lie since the day Kyle was killed. No matter how much normalcy I've tried to create the lies remain. This is the legacy I've passed to my son.

Lies. Derek was full of them. He constantly accused Cameron. Always wanted her silenced, out of commission. Relentlessly pointing the finger of blame at the metal. I should have remembered when he was pointing at her three of his fingers were pointing back at him. Three times as many lies issuing from his own lips.

He deserves mercy.

Bullshit.

An all consuming rage scorched it's way through my veins. The power it took to reign it in, keep it in, sucked at my last reserve of strength. Every nerve was on edge. My head throbbed.

A dozen different scenarios flickered through my mind. In some I decked Derek. His nose broken, bleeding. A fat lip. A black eye. Some mark to vent my rage. In others I drew my gun and fired just as I imagine he had done with Andy. No hesitation. No doubts. Just an end to someone who could not be saved.

"Sarah?"

I hear my name as if in a tunnel. A tunnel with a fork. There is a light at one end. An abyss of darkness at the other. I turn my back on both paths. My eyes open. The sun blazes. The truck Cameron acquired for us has plenty of room for our belongings but the air conditioner is worthless.

The back of my neck is damp with sweat. My tank top is near saturated. We must have been sitting stationary for a while. I don't remember stopping. Too wrapped up in thoughts of Derek.

He deserves mercy, a faint whisper at the back of my head.

"Maybe, maybe not." I whisper back.

"Are you all right, Sarah?"

I twist to face her. I prop my knee on the seat between us and take in the wonder of Cameron. Her shirt is almost as wet as mine. How the hell could I have been oblivious to all these traces of humanity? Perspiration dots her upper lip. I want to taste it. Run my tongue back and forth. Tease her till her lips part. I smile. "Of course I am."

"You are full of crap."

I roll my eyes. "Go screw yourself."

"Why would I want to do that? I'd much rather screw you."

Good answer. Really good answer. The temptation to bridge the short distance between us is so great I find myself inching closer. Only stopping at her sudden flinch. She turns to her right. "Derek is here. Are you certain this is how you wish to proceed?"

He deserves mercy.

I chamber a round in my Glock. Double-check the safety before I it to the back of my pants. "He can't be trusted. I have to."

"He did not come alone as you instructed."

"Of course not. He is such an asshole." I mumble as I step down from the truck. I motion for Cameron to stand down. He is probably already antsy. Cameron's presence only makes him worse.

Derek and Jesse's steps are matched. She's shorter but just as determined. Long strides. I wonder if either is aware of how similar they are. I cross my arms and wait for them to get close enough to talk without having to raise our voices.

"What part of 'come alone' was the big challenge, Derek?"

"Good to see you too, Connor." Jesse pipes up before Derek can. The thick Australian accent somehow adds to her sarcasm. She juts her chin in my direction. Her hands go to her hips. She gives me a lazy up and down stare. Pure defiance in her brown eyes.

"Wait with Cameron. Derek and I are going for a walk."

"Get stuffed. I don't take orders from you."

I don't give her the satisfaction of a reply. I cut my eyes to Derek. "Take care of her or I will."

"Is that a threat?" She steps forward. A short brunette firecracker with an even shorter fuse. "It sure sounds like one."

"Take it easy." Derek grabs her arm and gently pulls her back to his side. "When she's like this there's no point in arguing. I'll be back in a minute." he whispers but I still hear him. I see a rare moment of tenderness in his eyes. He cares for her. Truly cares.

"She's armed." Jesse calls as we pass her by. "Waistband of her trousers."

"Nothing new." Derek smiles. "So are you." The smile fades as his attention returns to me. His eyes lock onto mine. He must have detected something in my voice or my demeanor. "Fair warning. I am too."

"Fine. Everybody has a gun." I throw my hands up as we walk. I set a fast pace. I want this done and over as soon as possible. "It's like the O.K. Corral. You can be Wyatt Earp. I'll be Jesse James."

"Jesse James wasn't at that shootout." He informs me. Then points to my bandaged hand. "What happened?"

I think about the metal concealed beneath the gauze. His powerful hatred of all things metal almost makes me draw back. "Job hazard." If he saw what lies beneath he'd probably do what he does best. I don't doubt he'd shoot me. John's already made it into the world. In his eyes I have served my purpose.

I've seen the contempt in his eyes. He doesn't think John is tough enough. Doubts he will turn into the great leader he is destined to be. He questions our decisions on over and over again. I'm sick of it.

"So?" He stops when I do. One arm braced on a tree. His other hand behind his back like he's stretching. I'm not stupid. I know his fingers are grazing the butt of his beloved Beretta. "Why'd you want to meet in the middle of nowhere? And why didn't you want John to know?"

I release a heavy sigh. This is harder than I thought. The resemblance to Kyle is strong. My sense of loyalty clawing and tearing at my need for justice. "I want you gone, Derek."

"Meaning?"

"It means pack your shit. Make up some lie for John. It's not like you haven't told enough already. Tell John whatever you want. I want you gone today."

"What the fuck's that s'posed to mean?" He laughs bitterly. His hand rubbing at the stubble on his cheeks. "Is this about the fucking toilet seat again? That dyke rally get you all riled up about women's rights and whatnot?"

"Go to hell." I'm fed up. Meeting with him in person was a stupid idea. I should have just told him on the phone to get out. I turn to walk away.

"Hey," His hand clamps down on my shoulder and spins me toward him. "Least you owe me is an explanation."

"Take your hand off me."

"You've got murder in your eyes, Sarah. I told John that before." The hand holding me by my elbow changes from a grasp to a caress for an instant. I want to believe he can be gentle. That he still has some level of compassion. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

My stomach churns at the thought of him discussing my panties or anyone else's. I shrug his hand off me and shove him backward. Hard.

He's arms pinwheel as he tries to regain his balance. His boot catches on a raised root and he pitches face first to the ground.

Damn. That could have gone better. I go to reach for him to help him up. His leg sweeps out and I'm slammed on my ass. The air knocked from my lungs.

It is the opposite of our last fight. That time I had the element of surprise. The upper hand was all mine. Now, he's on top. Two hundred plus pounds of mostly muscle straddling my hips. His forearm resting against my windpipe. "Not real pleasant, is it?

"You're such an jerk. I swear to God I can't believe you're Kyle's brother. What the hell happened to you? Kyle must be rolling in the earth wondering how the hell a fucked up prick like you could possibly be the big brother he looked up to. You're a pathetic piece of crap."

"Leave my brother out of this." He roared. "Ungrateful bitch." He draws his hand back. Fingers curled into a tight fist. He's shaking from the effort to hold back and not hit me. "You got him killed."

That hurt. Hurt worse than if he had let loose and hit me.

He's crying now. Pain and fierce anger locked in combat for control of his brain. "You want to know what the fuck happened to me? Judgment Day, Sarah. What the fuck do you think happened? Do you think it's easy to watch the people you love blown to bits? Not a damn nightmare. Real fucking life. Machines enslaving humans."

"So, you got even by raping Cameron? Forcing her to -"

"You're crazy, Connor." Jesse's voice from our left. I glance over to see Cameron holding her back. Just one hand on the back of her neck like a mother dog holding her pup by the scruff of its neck.

Cameron narrowed her gaze at Derek. "You should go."

"Shut the fuck up."

"Don't." a simple command to either or both. I take advantage of Derek's surprise and anguish. I wriggle out from beneath him. He's still kneeling. Shoulder shaking, great, big, heaving sobs pulsing from his head to his toes. He's in no condition to listen or comprehend. I'm forced to talk to Jesse.

"Go to the house. Pack. Get out by seven a.m. Cameron and I will be there at eight. Trust me when I say it would be a really bad idea for you and Derek to still be there."

"Rack off, Connor. You broke him. All your crazy talk broke him. He worships you, you know? Christ we all did. Taught practically from birth that your son's the great messiah and you're the goddamn virgin Mary. Only you ain't no virgin. You ain't no self sacrificing super hero at all. You're a crazy bitch. You trust these tuna cans more than you do your own family. No wonder your son's a loon as well."

My blood feels like lava. Hot and thick. Spreading slowly to every pore. I see my own anger reflected in Cameron's eyes. In a split second she could snap Jesse in two. Much as I'd like to see the bitch suffer I know I can't allow her words to incite Cameron or myself to cold blooded murder.

I trust Cameron but maybe not while her hand is wrapped around Jesse's neck. "Let her go."

Her eyes contracted, as if asking if I'm sure. I give a slight nod. "Let her go."

Jesse jerks free. She makes a show of massaging her neck. "Watch your back, Connor. People are starting to wise up to you and John. Could be a human sent back next time to do you in."

"On second thought you don't get to pack." I reach into my pocket and toss a wad of cash to her. "Take Derek and get lost. Give it a few days. Then he can contact me. I don't ever want to talk to you again. I don't actually want to talk to him either but I will for John."

"You can go piss up a rope for all I care. Neither of us will be calling. We don't need you or your brat."

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More to come

Comments appreciated.

Sorry it got dark. It will get light again. Might take a little while.


	3. Chapter 3

******This chapter deals with some heavy stuff including nonconsensual sex. I changed the rating to M just for subject matter. *****

All the usual disclaimers. I own nothing. Bad language, grammar and pilfering. Including a direct quote from a Sarah Connor monologue toward the middle of Terminator 2 (one of the best movies ever freaking made :)

"Too much walking shoes worn thin

Too much trippin' and my soul's worn thin...

Time to take her home,  
her dizzy head is conscious laden.  
Time to take a ride it leaves today  
no conversation  
Time to take her home her dizzy head is  
conscious laden  
time took way too long...

Conversations kill"

Lyrics from Big Empty by Stone Temple Pilots

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Cameron's tale has permeated my brain. No matter how I try to distract myself it remains. Sometimes it comes to me in fleeting glimpses. Then from out of nowhere it hits me like Thor's hammer. Her descriptions and conversation playbacks so vivid I see everything as if I had somehow been transported to the future. I am a broken winged fly trapped on the wall. Forced to watch. Listen. Feel. That's when the mental pictures dig in with their talons and linger.

Derek's unadulterated hatred of the machines. John's deep fascination with them. Two sides of the same sad coin. Derek would not know he was related to John. For whatever reason, good or bad, John had chosen not to reveal his familial ties to Derek.

John, of course, knew of the shared blood coursing through their veins. He had been cursed with the facts of the future since he was a boy. Saddled with the knowledge he'd be sending his father back through time to ensure his own birth. While at the same time condemning Kyle to death. It didn't matter what either man wanted, feared, dreamed, or dared to hope for. They had no choice. They had a destiny. A mission.

John's guilt would be unbearable. I imagine he would want to be close to Derek. He'd want to make up for taking Derek's younger brother and sacrificing him for the sake of the future. He'd probably offer him friendship, companionship, guidance, and the love of a nephew Derek was not intended to know of.

A wretched case of too little too late.

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"Earth to mom." John waves his hand in front of me. "Hellooooo Mom. Are you in there?"

This is my John. The one still in his teens yet wise well beyond his years. He is handsome like his father. He's also smart, stubborn, ballsy, weary, calculating, brave, hotheaded, and sometimes a pain in the ass. The innocence has been leeching from his green eyes with each passing day. They become darker and fiercer just as I imagine the corners of his mind are.

I try a smile. It feels weak even to me. "What is it, John?"

"Didn't you hear the phone ringing? I was outside in the garage. It rang like twenty times."

I shrug. "You know I hate telemarketers. Somewhere under everyone's noses Skynet is being built and those idiots want to know if I'm satisfied with my phone service or if I want a subscription to a magazine that won't exist because killer cyborgs are -"

"Whoa Mom. Chillax." He grabs the cordless phone and checks the screen. "Unavailable." He tucks the phone in his back pocket. He's irritated but making an effort not to let it show. "I'll answer it next time. It could be Derek. It's been three weeks since he took off. It's not like him. Aren't you worried about him?"

I bite my lip and try not to think about it too much. "I'm sure he's fine. He and the Australian b- er Jesse are probably chasing a lead or something."

"He took off without a word. His toothbrush is still in the holder." He gives me his patented incredulous look. "Come on. He loves that toothbrush almost as much as his guns. Do you really think he'd leave willingly without it?"

I haven't told John about the last time I saw Derek. How do you tell your son the only other living member of his family has seen and been subjected to far too much? That he's a killer with ice for blood. That years of torture and pain have taken a heavy toll. He's hollow. Stripped. That a tin miss actually has more heart than him.

The worry in his eyes breaks my heart. I think back to when he first asked me to stop Skynet. I hadn't a clue as to how but I vowed I would. I pull him to me and he surprises me because he lets me. He hugs me back like he used to when he was little. I kiss the side of his neck. He doesn't pull away. "I'll find him." I whisper. "I will."

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"I need him protected, Cameron." John's voice. He sounds older. Scarred by battles, visions, deaths, lost loves, and hurt. Too much hurting. His words from Cameron's lips as she plays back various snippets from the future.

"Why John?" Flat, emotionless. Cameron.

"Not everything requires an explanation."

"Which implies some things do. How am I to know the difference?"

"You'll know." John's quiet voice. "Your advanced neural net CPU puts you leaps and bounds ahead of any other terminator created to date. Hell, you've surpassed a lot of humans I know." His laugh is hollow. Bitter. I can almost feel his shame for having spoken the words aloud. 

Cameron's resigned sigh. "What exactly am I required to do?"

"Keep him safe but try to stay out of sight. He won't be happy if he knows you're around. He's been tortured by terminators. His fears are justified."

"What about your safety? Who will protect you?"

"Hey, for one thing I protect myself." Anger laced his words. "Second, you follow orders. Mine, his, everyone's, got it?"

"Yes."

"Then get going."

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Cameron blinked and shook her head as if she were clearing the image. "I spent months trailing Derek. I kept my distance as John ordered. For a time Derek was happy. He had Jesse. They went on shared missions. Then her submarine skills were required elsewhere. John sent orders Derek was needed near the base camp. I think John wanted to keep Derek close. I do not believe he knew the depth of Derek's passion for Jesse. Derek's drinking increased. He got into fights. Not mission oriented fights. Fights with other Resistance members. Like bar brawls. Except of course there were no bars. Not like now. Nothing is like now."

I nodded. I was sitting beside her in the hotel in Daytona Beach. Her words were coming out faster. She rarely rushed herself. Her features tightened. Her breath quickened. I reached to touch her and she pulled away.

"Please. Don't touch me."

"Why can't I touch you?"

"Because you care."

Weeks ago if anyone asked me if I'd give a damn if a terminator was mistreated I'd have laughed in their face. I'd have been the first in line to swing at the terminator piñata. Sometimes things change. Even people. Where there is breath there is hope. There is no fate but what we make.

Cameron had been a part of my life for close to two years. At first we'd pretended to be mother and daughter in order to explain her living with John and I. Were it not for the time I'd spent with "Uncle Bob" I'd never have been able to even consider the idea of living with a killing machine. But "Uncle Bob" had saved my son and I numerous times. He'd learned and he'd taught. He'd planted the first seed in my head and probably John's too that not all machines are bad. There is good as well as bad in everyone and everything.

Watching John with the machine, it was suddenly so clear. The terminator, would never stop. It would never leave him, and it would never hurt him, never shout at him, or get drunk and hit him, or say it was too busy to spend time with him. It would always be there. And it would die, to protect him. Of all the would-be fathers who came and went over the years, this thing, this machine, was the only one who measured up. In an insane world, it was the sanest choice.

Cameron was a new and vastly improved model of terminator. She was built to deceive. She learned at an accelerated rate that boggled my mind and even the CPU of a fellow shrewd terminator with an agenda all her own. I'd never thought of Cameron as my child. At first she'd been a nuisance with a mission. John's protector. A necessary evil. Later she became a confidante, a whipping post, and most recently a lover.

I don't know how to explain it. I never expected to care about a terminator. I'd watched John cry as Uncle Bob was lowered into the pool of liquid death. I respected Uncle Bob. He served a purpose. His life meant something. He was and at times still is missed. I think perhaps the fact that a model who looked exactly him had hunted myself and John's father made it so I could never truly share in John's sorrow.

"Yes, Cameron." I finally admitted out loud as a single tear slid from my eye. "I do care."

She held her hand up when I tried to move closer. "I know this will hurt you. I can't do this if I think about what it will do to you."

"Okay." I sat back against the headboard and hugged my knees to my chest. "I won't touch you. I'll even look away if you want. Just talk."

"Sometimes they go bad. No one knows why." she said softly. Her big brown eyes brimmed with moisture.

"Who?" I prompted after a minute.

"Reprogrammed terminators." She answered. Then lowered her voice to a faint whisper. "People too."

I closed my eyes. I wanted to grab her, shake her, make her tell me whatever the hell it was that had happened between her and Derek. If I did I wouldn't be much better than him. She wouldn't allow me to hold her or comfort her. I gave her the one thing most precious to us all. I kept my eyes tightly shut and remained silent. I gave her time.

"Future John is very different from the John you know. In the future I came from your death nearly destroyed him. In the years that follow he loses many more people. He chooses to keep his distance after that. He doesn't allow anyone to get close. He has no friends. At least not human ones."

A new fissure cuts through my heart. I let the tears fall.

"It is true. Everyone follows John. They would give their lives for him. However they do not all like him. Some foster hate." She stood and began to pace the room. Eleven steps. Then a pause. I supposed when she turned and eleven more steps. Repeating. "John refused to tell Derek what happened to Kyle. John would not speak to him. He dispatched me to look after him. One day a reprogrammed terminator went bad. He shot and killed several members of the Resistance. Derek's intervention prevented more deaths. Derek drew the terminator's fire. He emptied his gun then stood in it's face and dared it to kill him. I stopped it. I will always wonder if I did the right thing. If I had let him die he would have died a hero. Instead I saved him. I did not think. I merely reacted as I had been programmed. I cannot explain the rest. I will play it back. Forgive me for causing you pain."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stupid metal bitch!" Derek yelled. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

A pause. Then Cameron's sharp intake of breath.

"Did you feel that? Are you capable of feeling?"

"If I turn my pain receptors on I can feel everything you do." 

"Turn 'em on then. Turn the sons of bitches on full blast."

A longer pause. Cameron groans. 

"It's good to see you bleed. Every last fucking one of you things should bleed and burn in hell."

More groans. Then a length of silence. I start to think it's over. I've heard the worst. I open my eyes. She's still in her trance like state. Her mouth partially open. Both her cheeks are covered in tears.

"Why aren't you fighting back" Derek suddenly shouts from her mouth. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"My mission is to protect you" Cameron sounds different. Her words lisped and nasally. Whatever Derek has been beating her with it's seems to have somehow damaged her. Perhaps it is the blood. "I cannot harm you."

"Fuck you. I don't want your protection. I want you dead."

"You cannot kill me."

"Yeah, well, I can do some things to make you wish you were dead."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To be continued

This was without a doubt the hardest scene I've ever written. I hope I didn't offend anyone.

The paragraph in bold print is the quote from Terminator 2.


	4. Chapter 4

O, and seriously. I don't hate Derek. I just find him annoying. (which is a credit to Brian for playing the role so well :) I thought it would be interesting to explore the strife between him and Cameron. I didn't know quite how intense it was going to get. We should be lightening up soon :)

The usual. Pilfering. No beta. Bad language.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think I'm paranoid, manipulated  
I think I'm paranoid, too complicated

Steal me, deal me, anyway you heal me  
Maim me, tame me, you can never change me  
Love me, like me, come ahead and fight me  
Please me, tease me, go ahead and leave me ~ Garbage

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm warning you. You son of a b-"

"John Connor." I cut him off.

A sheepish grin spreads across his face at the same time a blush creeps up his cheeks. "I didn't see you there, mom."

"I know." My expression softens. I gesture to the laptop he's just recently slammed closed. "Ghosts in the machine?"

He shakes his head. His hair is growing out again. The fringe nearly reaches his long lashes. "The stupid chip fried my last motherboard. Looks like we're going shopping."

"Not a chance." I back away holding the full laundry basket up in defense. "Last time you dragged me into one of your computer and gizmo stores I thought I'd have to pull my gun to get you to leave. You and Cameron can go. I'll have more fun washing clothes."

"Want us to pick up anything while we're shopping? Maybe takeout from the Wet Burrito?"

"I started a stew in the Crockpot hours ago. Can't you smell it?"

"So, uh the number 7 or the number 8?" His eyes sparkle and he's grinning like he did the first time he outmaneuvered me in the jungle.

I huff out a sigh but don't say anything. My craptastic cooking has made him happy. Who am I to wreck the mood? I'm halfway down the stairs when temptation wins. "Number 8." I say begrudgingly. "Don't forget the hot sauce."

Cameron walks in as I reach the bottom of the stairs. Her nose wrinkles. "Did the garbage disposal back up again?"

"Nope. Just mom's yummy home cooking. Come on." He races past me to grab the keys by the door.

"John needs a ride to the store. Try not to be gone all day."

"Only forty-seven minutes of daylight remain. Perhaps we should go tomorrow."

"So not funny, girlie." I grumble on my way to the laundry room.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They've only been gone long enough for me to sort and start a single load of laundry when my thigh vibrates and some chick starts singing about being paranoid and complicated. John's idea of funny. Reminding me again he needs more chores.

I snatch my cell phone from the side pocket of my cargo pants. Snapping it open quickly just to get the song to stop. I suck in a deep breath when I recognize the number. It's a call I need and loathe. I listen for the code and give my own in reply.

The seconds tick by. "Should I start humming the Jeopardy theme song?" I prompt after a while.

"I fucked up."

No shit. The words are on the tip of my tongue. I hold back, waiting a beat, hoping he will continue. He doesn't. "Yeah, you did, Derek." I say without anger. Just agreeing to get him to talk.

"Are you and John okay? Do you need anything?"

"We're hanging in. Still fighting the good fight."

"Good. Good." His words are clipped. "Where do we go from here?"

Now I'm silent. I honestly don't know.

"Look, I know things are bad between you and me." He sighs. I picture him raking his fingers through his hair. It's probably standing up in different directions. His eyes wide and wild like a feral cat's. "Tell me what to say to make it right."

"There are no magic words, Derek. I wish there were. John's been asking about you. You should call him."

"I'm allowed to?"

I nod. Then realize he can't see me. "Like I said, he misses you."

"What'd you tell him about me and the metal?"

I want to reach through the phone and throttle him. How dare he speak about Cameron like she's nothing but nuts and bolts? How can he not see all of the staggering changes within her? "I haven't told him anything. It's probably best for you to call John directly. I won't stand in the way or your relationship with him. You're blood. Kyle would want you two to look out for each other. I don't want him near Jesse though. Understood?"

"I got it."

"Good." I'm ready to hang up when he says my name. His tone is different. I wish I could see him. Get a better fix on exactly what's going on inside his head. "Yeah?"

"She's coming for you. Stay sharp." He disconnects.

I frown at the phone. I'm tempted to pitch it at the wall.

As if it can read my mind the targeted wall begins to shimmer. The center oozes outward like a deformed mushroom. The blob shrinking and elongating in a span of seconds before turning into the redhead of my nightmares. "Good evening, Sarah."

The phone slides from my grasp. Bouncing on the tiles and coming to rest against her high heeled shoe. I want the phone back but I'm not about to bend down at her feet.

The jagged scar between my pinky and ring finger has heated up and begun to itch and burn with a dull ache. Soon afterward the one near my eye begins to tingle. As do the ones on my knee and back. The fact that these are the areas where Weaver's forced merge with me left their mark is not lost on me.

"What the hell, Weaver? You could have called or used the front door like any normal pers- oh fuck never mind." I can't believe I almost referred to her as a person. Her sudden appearance has shocked me into stupidity.

"Telephones and doors are for underachievers." She sniffs the air and her nose crinkles just like Cameron's did just a short while ago. "Has something recently did in your home."

"I'm making stew."

"Ha." She shows her teeth. "I'd venture the more likely result will be either a poison or some sort of animal repellant."

"Like you could do any better. What the hell do you want?"

"Ah yes." she clasps her hands in front of her chest. Her bright blue eyes scanning me from boot to head. "There's the charming Sarah Connor I know and love. I've missed you."

"You could have just sent a postcard."

"And miss out on the fun of seeing you in person? I think not."

"Stop playing games with me. What do you want?"

Somehow her eyes glow an even more intense blue. The insincerity of her bared teeth makes her all the more intimidating. "I've come with a caution."

"All terminators should." I hope I sound brave. I need a distraction from her intensity. I can't give in and let her see the fear she invokes. I give her the same thorough once over she's been giving me. My eyes gradually traveling upward over the tailored silver dress until I notice a blemish near her left eye. There's a matching one just above her brow. I don't recall it being there the last time I saw her at the hotel in Daytona Beach. "I know you guys can sweat, bleed, and do lots of other stuff to blend in as humans but pimples? When did that start? The human you're pretending to be is in her thirties. You're a little old for zits."

She moves so fast I don't even see the hand coming until it's circled around my neck. She presses me backward until I'm laying over the washer. I tear and kick at her ineffectually as she worms closer. Her body draped over mine. She's sniffing like a demented German Sheppard. "You reek of fear." This time her smile seems genuine.

"You would too if a psychotic unstoppable bitch was on top of you about to choke you to death."

"Yes," she inhales deeply. "Remember this moment, Sarah. No matter what achievements Cameron makes, you are helpless against me."

The meaning of her words clicks in my head. "Cameron's not."

"You and John are. That's what matters." she releases my neck then slowly, way too slowly, backs up off me. "You are aware my intentions are only to form an alliance with you. I have information to facilitate your survival and John's as well as other future members of the Resistance. Take John to the lighthouse tonight. He will be safe there."

I steel my features. She can't possibly know about the lighthouse. "What are you talking about?"

"The lighthouse you sent Charley too. It's well secured. No one knows of it. Take John there. Then come to Zeiracorp when you and Cameron return. The three of us have much to discuss."

It's been months since I set Charley up at the lighthouse. I've only contacted him once. John doesn't even know where he is. How could Weaver?

"Trust me, Sarah. I have only your best interests at heart."

"You don't even have a heart."

"We'll see. Tomorrow morning. Don't make me come for you."

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Til next time


	5. Chapter 5

Look around  
Give your eyes a new adventure  
What you see  
Is a mix of past and future

Your moment  
Is coming now  
Hold on

Lyrics from "The Messenger" by INXS

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I'm torn. Part of me is happy to see Weaver make her exit. I never wanted her entrance. She gives me the creeps. Sometimes I'm not a hundred percent sure whether she wants to kill me or kiss me. I shiver, remembering the undercover mission when she shape shifted into Cameron and our lips lingered for the longest thirty seconds of my life.

"Hold it."

Weaver's back goes rigid. Her head swivels enough so she can see me from the corner of her steely gaze. "What is it?"

"You can't just appear and drop these little snippets about the future and leave. I'm not some flunky you can just order around. Tell me what hell is going on."

"Nor am I a dog tethered to your hip. I answer to no one other than myself, Sarah. Do not press the matter." She begins to shimmer. She's about to disappear.

"Please, Weaver." I whisper. I can hardly bare to be so polite. So needy. "My son doesn't want to run anymore." I shrug and try my best to look as helpless as I think she wants me to be. "And I don't want to make him without a damn good reason."

The flickering stops. She's whole again. She takes a moment before performing a perfect about face. Her icy eyes settle on me. I feel the need to take a step back but force myself to be still. "How many times have you eluded death?"

"I don't know. Are we counting right now?"

"No," The loud spin cycle begins. Weaver gestures for me to lead the way out of the laundry room. The idea of sitting with her on the sofa is cringe worthy. I set my sights on the kitchen. Chairs and a table between us sounds like a good plan. "Barring the number of close calls you have had with cyborgs, car accidents, and day to day life how many times have you managed to outmaneuver death?"

"I don't know." I take the chair at the end of the table. I spin it to face me and wait for her to sit at the opposite end of the table before I straddle my chair. I want to be able to move quickly and have the chair ready as a shield should the need arise. Weaver crosses her legs and smoothes her skirt where it falls to rest just above her knee.

Cameron helped you cross through time to avoid your death from cancer in December of 2005. Most recently I helped you and Cameron both avoid your destruction from the terminator disguised as a Trooper only a few short weeks ago. We both know you are not immortal. We have successfully altered the date but your demise still hovers ahead."

There's a comforting thought. "I don't get you Weaver. You don't have to make threats. I know if you wanted to kill me I'd be dead. Extend you pointy bladed arm and I'm history before my next breath. Don't expect me to beg for my life. I won't."

She shakes her head dismissively. "You misunderstand. Perhaps stated another way it will make more sense. Do you know what a temporal paradox is?"

Every spot on my body where Weaver merged with me is no longer just a dull throb. There's a constant back and forth stabbing pain. "It has to do with time travel and the affects it has on the future, the past, and the present. John talks about it sometimes."

"There are many different theories regarding it. No one, not even I, knows the full ramifications each terminator and person sent through time has caused. You have changed the date of Judgment Day more than once and will no doubt do so again. However you have not prevented it entirely. If you had I would not exist. Nor would Cameron. For that matter, John would even be gone. Have you thought about that, Sarah? The very thing you've fought so hard for could erase your beloved son's existence."

Her words cut straight to the bone. I have thought of it many times. Driven myself to the brink of sanity with doubt and fear. It's all too easy to get caught up in all the possibilities and the implausibility of altered timelines, forecasted deaths and events, and eventualities coupled with my future son's words delivered to me from the lips of his own future father, "the future is not set."

"The future may not be etched in stone as it once was but there are inevitabilities. They can be postponed but cannot be prevented."

Explosions of pain force my eyes closed. I grasp the chair but cannot hold on as I fall backward. Weaver is there to cushion the blow. Somehow in front of and behind me all at once. I open my eyes briefly in time to see a scene that would make even the biggest horror fan hide their eyes.

Weaver's arms have not changed into spikes. Instead she has eight undulating snakes of silvery metal protruding from what should be her shoulders. A long sharp tendril raises to the right side of my hand. Other tendrils spread high and low, forward and behind me. The strikes are simultaneous. Each of her deformed snake-like arms punctures the skin covering the areas where we merged. It feels as though my body is on fire. I hear screams echoing in the house.

It's me who's screaming. I realize it just as the loud retort of a submachine gun fills the air. Weaver's body absorbs the bullets. She remains on top of me but her head morphs in on itself until I'm looking at her long read hair and whomever stands behind her is forced to see her face.

"You should not have come out of hiding, Q."

"I came for Sarah." It's a woman speaking. She is soft spoken but there is an edge to her voice. I pick up on a slight Hispanic accent. "The police are coming. I don't know what you are doing, Mrs. Weaver but you need to stop."

The voice is vaguely familiar. It can't be who I think it is. She couldn't possibly be alive. She knows where our home is. Cameron had to have killed her. Cameron doesn't leave loose ends.

Whatever Weaver was doing, she's stopped. The teeth jarring pain is gone. I open my eyes but cannot see anything other than a white hot silver light. I can no longer feel Weaver's presence on top of me. I can't tell if she's disappeared or just standing over me.

I concentrate my senses that are working in the direction of the newcomer. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"The time for questions is over, Sarah. The police will be here soon. On your feet."

"Who sent you?"

"The one who copies me. I did her makeup once." My suspicions are confirmed. I picture the long dark hair, highly arched brows over scheming brown eyes, and full painted lips. Cameron's first or second girl crush, depending on where I ranked. She's Carlos' chola. "You should be dead."

Her laugh is mirthless. "So should you, gringa. I am trying to prevent that. Hurry." She puts my arm across her shoulders and drags me to my feet.

I hear sirens from nearby. Very nearby. I cling to the girl and follow where she leads. My sight has not returned. "Is Weaver still here?"

"She is. She will delay the police. Come Sarah. Now."

"The house is rigged with explosives, Weaver." I call it blindly. I have no idea where she is. Despite her stabbing me I know I have to trust her. "Make sure there is no trail for them to follow."

"I will see that it is taken care of. Get to Cameron. Take John to safety. Be at Zeiracorp in the morning or I'll come to you."

"We'll come to you. You don't come anywhere near Charley or John." I call out just before the girl pushes me into a truck.

The tires squeal and we're rapidly putting distance between us and the house. We make many turns at high speeds. She's ensuring no one is following.

"Where are we going?"

"To meet Cameron and John. Try to relax. The more adrenalin pumping through your system the more blood you lose. Stay still."

She's right. I know this. I slow my breathing and in time my heart rate. I continue blinking trying to regain my sight. "How did you know the police were coming? Why would Cameron send you?"

"I called Cameron to warn her. The police came for her and John as well. Do not worry. They got away. They are waiting for us."

I can now see blurry shapes. They zoom by as the girl steers us through traffic to some secret destination.

"Who tipped off the cops?"

"A Medusa from down under. She is small in stature. Large in hatred. Her army grows."

"Jesse?"

She nods. We travel quickly over a bumpy dirt road. Every rut we hit sets my wounds back to screaming for attention. "Hang on, Sarah. We're almost there."

Soon enough I see a twelve foot high fence. Triangular yellow and black signs posted presumably advising high voltage. My vision hasn't returned enough for me to be able to read. Fierce sounding dogs barking uncontrollably. We pull into what looks like a dilapidated junk yard. Half demolished cars stacked 8 high in dozens of rows.

We cut through them quickly and reach what looks like an abandoned airplane hangar. John and Cameron are already out and at my door before the girl has the truck in park. Cameron jerks the door open and quickly scans every inch of me. Her normally stoic features show concern. She leans in and scoops me up before I can tell her I'm able to walk.

"Mom, you're bleeding. Were you shot?"

"No," I sigh and relax against Cameron's shoulder. We haven't been this close since we came back from Daytona. Even under these circumstances it feels right to be in her strong arms. "I'm okay, John. I'll tell you the rest during the drive. We have to move quickly."

"First I am tending to you wounds." Cameron lays me on a worktable then turns to take the first aid kit from Q. They might have exchanged a look of friendship, gratitude, something more? I can't be sure. I'm still seeing only outlines and blurs. "John, go help her load supplies into our jeep."

John takes my hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. "Promise me you're okay?"

I nod, holding back the tears. He doesn't openly show concern all the time. "I promise." I think of what Cameron told me about how in the future he rejects humans and chooses to befriend the machines instead. He's afraid of loss and I've taught him to hide his emotions. I cling tighter to his hand and pull him to me. "I love you, John."

He hugs me back. Then realizes Q is still present. "Jeez Mom. Chillax. You're getting blood all over me."

I ruffle his hair as payback. "I lost my Glock during the escape. Get me a new one."

"Yeah." he mumbles and follows Q outside.

Cameron looks me over closely. She helps me remove my shirt. She turns me around to examine my back and sucks in a surprised breath. "You have several small puncture wounds. Each is in the area where trace elements of Weaver were left behind after she melded with you. I assume this is not by chance."

"No, not by chance." I agree. I relay the sordid details of my meeting with Weaver as Cameron cleans and then stitches or bandages my injuries.

"You are having difficulty seeing?"

"I am. It's not as bad as it was though. I was completely blind at first."

She sighs and reaches for my belt.

I cover her hand with mine. "What are you doing?"

"I need to treat your knee and thigh. I thought it best to remove the pants. Would you prefer I rip them?"

I'm already topless. What's the difference? I slide off the table and carefully remove the pants which have started to stick to my skin from the dried blood.

Cameron's kneeling between my legs, applying a stitch when Q returns. "Don't let John come in here." I warn her.

She continues forward. She holds out a fresh set of clothes. She leaves without a word. For once I'm happy she's the quiet one.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To be continued

Comments rock socks. Just sayin :D


	6. Chapter 6

Computers are pesky. Just sayin.

Anyway, in the last chap, where Sarah and Q arrive at the junkyard/hideout place they shared a brief exchange where Q said her name. Somehow (not mentioning Skynet, LOL) the little snippet got deleted. So, I'm including it here cuz it also mentioned something else giving Sarah a little food for thought about Cameron's "involvement" with Chola/Q. :)

Soon enough I see a twelve foot high fence. Triangular yellow and black signs posted presumably advising high voltage. My vision hasn't returned enough for me to be able to read. Fierce sounding dogs barking uncontrollably. We pull into what looks like a dilapidated junk yard. Half demolished cars stacked 8 high in dozens of rows.

"It's always like this when Cameron is around. She makes the dogs go crazy."

Just the dogs, I wonder, or the girls too? "Always? How many times has Cameron been here with you?"

She gives her head a quick shake. "I have said too much already. If Cameron hasn't told you of her visits then it is not my place to say more." She sighs. I wish I could more clearly see her eyes and expressions. "They call me Q, Sarah. I am the Quiet One. And you," she points her long nailed finger at me. "You are damaging my rep."

We cut through the rows quickly and reach what looks like an abandoned airplane hangar. John and Cameron are already out and at my door before the girl has the truck in park. Cameron jerks the door open and quickly scans every inch of me. Her normally stoic features show concern. She leans in and scoops me up before I can tell her I'm able to walk.

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"I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited...

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead

Nothing compares, no worries or cares

Regrets and mistakes, They're memories made

Who would have known how bittersweet this would taste?"

Excerpts from "Someone Like You" by Adele

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I wait for Q to be out of earshot before asking. "What's the deal with you and her? You're always on me about loose ends. Seems to me she's a very loose end."

"A loose end who saved both of our lives. John's too. She is trustworthy." Cameron answers while smoothing a bandage on my thigh. Her touch is light. I shouldn't be surprised by this but I somehow always am. My fingers seem to move of their own volition. Touching her sleek hair and tracing circles on her scalp.

She reaches her hand up and moves mine aside before standing before me. She's acting like she did in the beginning. Cold and detached. A perfect killing machine. "You should get dressed. There's a bathroom just to your right."

"Yeah," I nod curtly. Just like that the moment is gone. I pick up the clothes. Suddenly very self conscious about being half naked in front of her. Navy blue baggy pants, a tight white t-shirt and a grey hoodie complete the ensemble. I wash my face and hands in the sink. I glance in the mirror. My vision is pretty much back to normal. When I see my tangled hair and my pale skin I'm not entirely grateful to have it back. I briefly finger comb my hair before returning to Cameron.

"How do you feel?"

I pause a moment to consider. All the earlier pain has dissipated. "Much better. You have the magic touch."

She frowns. "It's not me. It's Weaver. She reinforced the bond with you. She's unlike the T1000. Her mimetic pollyalloy contains silver nanoparticles which are helping you heal at an accelerated rate."

"Run that by me one more time."

"I can only perform rudimentary tests by touch. To know more we will need a medical facility. Q may have access. Would you like me to ask her?"

"Not now." I shake my head. "We have to go. We have to get John to Charley. Then we can meet Weaver and find out exactly what the fuck she's doing."

It doesn't seem possible but her back stiffens even more. Her eyes narrowing. "Charley is a loose end. I thought you had taken care of him."

"I did take care of him." The old anger fights to rise to the surface. "You leave Charley to me." Somehow I find a way to cut myself off before I can say anything to make her retreat any further to the terminator side. "Let's go."

There's a chill in the air. I'm grateful for the hoodie. I tuck my hands in the pockets and follow Cameron into the night.

Q and John are leaning back against the grill of her neon blue SUV. They look casual. Just a guy and a girl hanging out on breezy night. Sharing a coke and a smile. John's eyes roam over me briefly. "That's some new look, mom. All you need's a pair of hoop earring and some dark eyeliner and you could be a chola.

"So not funny." I roll my eyes and watch Q's eyes slowly cut to him. She looks pissed. I start forward to intervene in case she decides to deck him.

She arches her already high brow and surprises us all with a slow spreading grin. Her glossed lips pull back revealing a gleaming row of perfect teeth. The usual harshness she presents in order to survive is gone. She's beautiful. I glance at Cameron and she's smiling back. For some reason I'm not.

Cameron reaches for the keys when Q holds them out. A hot pink rabbit's foot dangles from the chain. "Thank you for all your help. Vaya con Dios."

Q's smile widens. "The same to you, amiga. It was good to see you." Her fingers lingering on Cameron's for a moment while transferring the keys. Her coal colored eyes land on me. "Keep the faith, Sarah. Your army is growing. When the time comes we will be ready."

"My army?"

"We are the ones who resist the future. There is no fate but what we make."

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The deserted road stretches before us. There are no streetlights. The moon a mere sliver. Cameron drives. I see nothing but a wall of blackness ahead. She is driving without headlights, reminding me of a similar late night car ride several years ago with Uncle Bob.

She's on autopilot. Not just during this time in the car. Pretty much since we returned home to John nearly a month before.

I know she has infrared vision and probably sees better in the dark than I would in the daytime with a pair of binoculars. It still makes me uneasy. John is asleep in the back. Camouflage ear buds dangling from his ears. His mouth slack. A bit of drool collecting in the corner. My lips raise in an involuntary half smirk.

Cameron takes her eyes off the road for a moment. She smiles hesitantly. Her head dips slightly. She swallows. A thought seems to flitter across her mind. Her lips part. A flash of her moist pink tongue as she licks her lips. Then her eyes are once again back on the road. She doesn't need to look ahead. The darkness engulfing us does not concern her vision. I can barely see within the jeep but I know she sees for miles.

I glance to the back to make sure John is still soundly asleep. This is the first real spark of life I've seen in Cameron since her breakdown. I cannot let it pass by unnoticed. "Not that I'm complaining but what was that all about?"

"Nothing." She shifts her head. Her long hair falls forward to hide her face.

"I call bullshit." I shake my head. I reach across and slide my fingers through her silken tresses, tucking the soft strands behind her ear. For a moment she leans towards me. My thumb grazes her cheek then the corner of her tempting mouth before she pulls away. "Come on, girlie. That look. That shy little Mona Lisa smirk. They were not about nothing. They were most definitely about something. Tell me."

"Your smile..." she pauses. Considering something before seemingly changing the topic. "I do not technically have to breathe. It's something I've grown accustomed to doing as part of my infiltration strategy. I do it almost the same as you and John now. It's natural. It does not require thought."

She stops there. Leaving me to choose between prodding or dropping the subject. She does this sometimes. A challenge or a surrender, she leaves it up to me. My adrenalin's been depleted. The days events have taken their toll. Exhaustion has crept in. I'm tempted to let it go. Just close my eyes and drift like a dead branch flowing with the stream. Curiosity barely defeats the need to close my eyes. "What does the way you breathe have to do with my smile?"

"Your smile," she treats me to another upward curve of her full lips. "Does things to me." Her voice is softer. "I have heard people use the term breathtaking before. It's meaning is obvious yet seems a clear exaggeration. I never gave it much thought. I assumed it to be another human idiom like 'the cat's got your tongue.' However In your case it's not an overstatement. Your smile stuns me. It literally takes my breath. I am required to think. I have to manually inhale and exhale a few times to kick start the process."

Wow. Really good answer. I'm incapable of speaking words at the moment. I sit back to digest her sweet confession. My lids grow heavy. I allow them to close. Just for a moment.

It must have been a little longer than just a moment. Cameron touches my shoulder and points to my window. I follow her finger and I'm treated to a sight I thought I'd never see again. Honey speckled wheat colored eyes surrounded by lines that somehow make him even more attractive. Two or three days growth of beard on his strong chin. His wavy hair grown out and grazing the collar of his checkered flannel shirt. He's standing ready. A shotgun held with the muzzle down. "You said I'd never see you again."

"I know." I start to get out but he blocks the door.

He leans in through the open window and presses his lips to my ear. To Cameron and John it probably looks like a kiss. For one brief moment I even think it might be. I'm not sure if I want it but I'm not backing away. Then a forceful whisper. "You've got a lot of nerve, Sarah. You're lucky you have John with you or I'd tell you to go to hell."

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To be continued.

Camerah moments coming soon. Promise.


	7. Chapter 7

Rated M for sex and language.

Pilfering. No beta. Bad Grammar. I own nothing, etc :)

You knew I knew the ways that I could make you say:  
"Please, please please don't take it...  
Take it, take it, take it easy on me. Just make it.  
Make it, make it, make it harder to breathe."  
So I'll climb on top and I'll never stop  
Till I make you forget who you are  
And just feel.

"Between Breaths" by blaqk Audio (TY LCDL for introducing me to this kick ass song)

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The frosty tone in Charley Dixon's voice comes as a surprise. He's always been so loving. So trusting. Forgiving. I let my guard down. I'm not saying I expected a red carpet or a hug and a kiss but I didn't expect the angry expression or the glacier glint in his eyes either.

"I'm sorry, Charley." I whisper back. I feel the heat burning off him as my lips brush his ear. "If there was anyone else I trusted to care for John I'd go to them. You're it. You're the only other living soul who cares about him the way I do. Please tell me you won't refuse him."

"You know I won't." He backs up then opens the rear door. His eyes brighten upon settling on John. "Johnny!"

To his credit, John doesn't bristle at being called, Johnny. He throws his arms around Charley and holds him in a fierce bear hug. He used to hold me like that once. Back when he thought I had all the answers. When I was six feet tall and bullet proof in his eyes.

"You could use a shave."

"And you need a haircut." Charley playfully ruffles John's hair. "It's good to see you, Johnny. You've grown another couple inches."

"That's what living the good life will do to you."

Charley and I both laugh. John's dry humor surprising us both. We share a brief look. The kind we shared a long time ago in what seems like a whole different life.

"That and your mom's good cooking." Charley adds. The warmth in his expression disintegrating almost instantly.

I stiffen but manage to keep my mouth closed.

"You should go say hi to Riley, Johnny. She saw 'it'," He points at Cameron. Disgust plainly written on his stubbled cheeks. "And she didn't want to come out. But she really wants to see you."

"Riley?" John questions. "Riley Dawson?" Hope and something else flickering across his face.

"You didn't tell him?"

I shrug sheepishly. "A lot has happened in a short amount of time."

John takes off at a half trot. Cameron and I start to exit the car but Charley holds his hand out. "'It' stays outside." He waits until he hears the door close behind John before adding. "To be honest I'm not even sure I want you to come inside."

Ouch. "Ok, I understand. I won't be here long."

"No, you won't." he agrees. "What the hell were you thinking bringing 'it' here? Don't you know that poor girl has been struggling to pull herself together and lead as normal a life as she can and now you bring this 'thing' here. To my home. My safe place." he sighs. His broad shoulders suddenly slouch. "I didn't think you could possibly hurt me anymore. But here you go again."

The tears well up. Charley makes me feels things whether I want to or not. He's special to me. I imagine he's special to just about anyone lucky enough to meet him. "I truly am sorry."

"Yeah. It's taken me a while to realize that but I get it now. We should talk but not with that thing around."

Double ouch. "Ok." I nod and turn to Cameron. Her face is set in poker mode. Not a trace of emotion. Not even a small hint in her eyes. I try for a reassuring smile. It probably looks more like a grimace. "Why don't you go into town and get the supplies Q didn't have? If you manage to find me some clothes that don't make me look like a wannabe gangbanger I'd be much obliged."

"I will see what I can do."

Tires spinning, spitting gravel into the air is the only indication that Cameron is even remotely hurt or pissed off. I look to closer at Charley to read his mood. "You weren't this angry last time I showed up. What's changed?"

"The first time you brought me here I was on the brink of a breakdown. Pardon the expression but I think you'd agree you fucked me senseless. You made me want more. Then you left in the night. No note. No phone call. Not a damn thing. A few months later you show up with a broken Riley. I'm tired of it. You can't just show up here anytime your crazy life is falling apart and expect me to take in your strays or patch up the walking dead. I'm not Rudolph, Sarah. This is not the Island of Misfit Toys."

His words hit home. I've used him. It's true. Ever since Kyle and I defeated the first machine sent after my unborn child I've been using people. It's what I do. It's all I do. My eyes are again brimming with tears I can't shed. He doesn't need another burden from me.

"The scary robot is not my favorite thing to be around. You brought it to my home, Sarah. Your brazenness never ends. It's a fucking killing machine."

"Not her. Not anymore."

"Bullshit. You of all people should know better. How has she bamboozled you?"

"She's different, Charley."

"You were the one who told me to never trust them. You taught me everything I know about them. I've seen every ragged scar on your body caused by them. I know what that bastard did to Michelle. I saw the damage Cameron inflicted on you and John. What makes you think she won't get twitchy again?"

"She won't."

"I don't get you. I mean I kind of get John. He's a teenage boy. On the outside she's pretty as a picture. It's easy to see why he's blinded to what's on the inside, the wires and metal with a single deadly purpose. But you? Why do you trust her?"

"She's different."

"So you've said. It doesn't mean a thing to me. I don't trust her. I won't have her in my home."

I nod, determined not to let the tears fall. "I'll leave as soon as she gets back."

"No." His fingers graze my chin as he looks closer at a bruise. The paramedic, healing part of him defeating the ticked off half. "You look exhausted. You need to sit before you fall. Come on inside. You can rest. You can leave after you've gotten some sleep."

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John isn't the only teenager who's been growing and changing. Riley must have had a Britney Spears moment. Her hair is so short it looks like she's been shaving it. Surprisingly it looks good on her. Her angular face is not so gaunt. Her blue eyes shine like twin sapphires. She's been working out.

"Hi, mom."

The looks have changed but the teenage mentality has not. I roll my eyes. "You get into a fight with a lawn mower?"

She runs her fingers over her buzz cut. "I wanted a change. What do you think?"

"It works for you."

"Yeah, I guess I look way better now than last time you saw me after Jesse tried to kill me with her bare hands. She's one tough bitch. Fights dirty too." she flashes a grateful smile to John. "If you and Derek hadn't shown up when you did I'd be deader than a doornail. Thank you for saving my life." She grabs him in a tight hug.

A slow blush creeps up John's cheeks as he slowly backs away. "I'm just glad you're ok. I like your new look. It's Very Demi Moore GI Jane-ish."

Her nose crinkles. "Who?"

"Uh, kind of like Ripley in the really craptastic third Alien movie."

"Who?"

He shakes his head. "Forget it."

"Whatevs. It's not hard to forget someone you never knew." she takes his hand and pulls him into another room. "Charley just got us the latest edition of Halo. Says it's good practice. I'll take you on."

I look over at Charley. "Perhaps this was not one of my smartest decisions. I probably should have shipped her off to boarding school."

"Relax. She's a smart kid. So is he. I'll keep a close eye on them."

I shoot him a half smile. "When you're not playing video games to garner war strategies?"

"You're the one who bought me the Xbox."

"You were so down in the dumps. And I remembered how you'd sit in the diner and play the old video games and pinball machines for hours. You said it distracted you from the not so nice parts of your job."

"I wasn't always playing the games. A lot of times I just used them as a cover so I could watch you hustling around in that sexy short skirt with the bottomless coffee pot and an armful of plates."

I blushed like John had done just minutes before. "You know, I used to fight the other waitresses to be your server. I'd get stuck on dishwashing duty just to have the chance to bring you a cup of decaf and a slice of chocolate silk pie."

"We had some good times."

"Indeed." My smile is wistful. Thinking of what might have been. "I'm sorry it came to this. I'm sorry I only come to you when I'm in need. I'm just sorry."

"I know."

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Charley isn't wild about my plan but he knows me well enough that he doesn't bother putting up much of an argument. He agrees to watch over John while Cameron and I tackle the Weaver situation and work on a plan to take care of Jesse and, if necessary, Derek.

He and the others are asleep when I hear Cameron return. I've been watching the flickering images on Charley's surveillance cameras for about an hour. I see Cameron park the car then get out to begin her perimeter watch.

Storm clouds have settled over the house. The light drizzle is starting to get stronger. The sun is rising but the clouds are so thick it's nearly impossible to tell. A low and steady rumble of thunder signals the heavier stuff is coming our way. It seems it always is.

Cameron seems preoccupied. Her graceful ballerina poise gone. Her movements are rigid. Disjointed. The cyborg within clawing to the surface.

I think of how much she's changed since she told me about what Derek did to her. The stiffness not just in the way she moves. Her voice, demeanor, stature are all adversely changed. Her human side shriveling and retreating deep inside the machine. It hurts to see her like this. I miss the way she was in Daytona Beach. It's unconventional, controversial, and probably a hundred other not so great things but it doesn't stop me from wanting her. Needing her.

I'm outside and closing the distance between us without even thinking. One minute I'm snuggled in a blanket on Charley's couch and the next I'm fighting the chills as I seek Cameron out. She's covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time. I have to jog to catch up to her at the outer edge of the property.

She probably sensed my approach the second I opened the door to come after her but she doesn't turn to face me until I'm about a foot away. "You should go back, Sarah. You're all wet."

She's right. I should go back. I shouldn't pursue a relationship with a cyborg. I shouldn't care that she's hurting so much she's losing her humanity. But she's come too far. I can't allow this regression. "It doesn't matter if I get wet. What matters is you, Cameron." I put my fingers down lightly on her arm. She's startled at first. Skittish. The whole thing is awkward. Flight or fight? Keep after her or just take the easy way out?

A loud clap of thunder helps make the decision for me. My light touching turns into a grasp. I clutch her arm and pull until she finally relents. I lead her deeper into the woods behind the shed. It's a big risk. I know it. I shove the doubts aside. Before the weekend in Daytona Beach I didn't know what I was missing. I could live without it. Now, after having tasted her lips. Felt her fingers. Her tongue. Her breath. Her kisses. I knew I couldn't go back to starving again. Some risks are worth taking.

I pull her to me. Embrace her tightly. Peppering kisses on her neck, her cheek, her shoulder. She's hesitant. Her hands are tight fists at her sides. I claim her mouth with my lips. My fingers on top of hers, softly stroking until her hands open and accept mine. At the same time her lips part. The rush comes. My tongue slides in. Sucking hers. My desire flows inside her, through her mouth and hands to the whole of her until finally the rigidity melts away.

The first long kiss ends only because of the need to breathe. My cheeks are flushed. Her mouth open. Breathing hard just like me. I imagine if we were not outside the windows would be steamed. Our heat is palpable. Her tongue tastes sweet. It leaves me yearning for more. Lightning turns the sky bright. Tiny droplets of rain glistening in her hair beckoning me closer. Thunder booms in a steady rhythm as the light show continues.

I cup her cheek. Stroke her full lower lip with my thumb. "You're beautiful." I whisper and kiss her again. A long, hard, deep kiss. Full of want and intense need. Each curve and hollow of hers fitting perfectly against mine. Like puzzle pieces finally finding their home.

She lets out a soft whimper. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

I haven't been sure of a whole lot lately but of this one thing I actually am. "Yes. I want you."

"I want you to. I think I've wanted you since the first day I saw you in person. Cromartie and I were fighting. He was getting the upper hand. You shot him. You knew it was futile. You did it anyway. You bought me time to recover and to maneuver. You knew I was a terminator. Yet you tried to protect me anyway. You've done it so many times. The day we broke Derek from prison, at the nuclear plant, when we rescued Lauren and her unborn baby sister. You risk your life for mine without thought or care for yourself. You're a hero, Sarah Connor. Not just to the world for what you've done and will do. But to me, specifically. You're my hero."

I don't know what to say to that. I grab her for another kiss. She guides me against a tree. The rough bark pricking me through my T-shirt. Our mouths are sealed. Both of us feeding from the other. Her tongue battling for control. She pulls me tighter, almost crushing me against her breasts. Her leg bends and presses between mine.

She takes my hand and brings it beneath her shirt. I slide my hand slowly across her flat stomach and up to the swell of her breasts. They're slick with rain but still hot to the touch. I marvel at the way her skin flutters against the tips of my fingers. She has goose bumps. I want to taste them. I have to.

I bend at the waist. Licking and sucking her breasts and trembling stomach while I undo her jeans. She cups my chin with one hand and coaxes me to stand straight again. Her eyes remain riveted to mine as her other hand takes mine again and moves it slowly, achingly slowly against her. Her rain cooled thighs gradually heating as my fingers trace her moist center. She bucks against me. The look on her face is pure amazement.

She kisses me. Hard. The rain pours. We're drenched. Still hot. So deliciously hot and cold. If we were cartoon characters little tufts of steam would rise from us. She goes to lift me and the ground beneath us slides.

The mud splashes with the weight of my body. The shock I feel as I squish in the mud is not quite as funny as the look on Cameron's face. She's stunned it happened. And shamed to have it be her fault.

I'm laughing as I pull her down to meet me. "It's okay, girlie. Mother nature had different plans than you. That's all. It's all good. Just get your ass down here and kiss me."

"It's mud, Sarah."

"Yeah," I laugh. "I know. Come on."

She reluctantly drops to her knees between my legs. "It's messy."

"Indeed." I sit up to meet her lips with mine. When she's sufficiently distracted I use my muddy hands to guide her down until she's stretched across my body. I wrap my legs around her. My thighs tightening possessively on her hips. My calves clenching the back of her legs. And the rain pummels us as the lightning strikes at random. I see her round eyes still so wide with wonder. Her face gleaming with rain. A glimpse of a rare full smile before her mouth claims mine again.

Her normally nimble fingers are fumbling as she struggles to undo the button and unzip the pants. She's frantic to find her way inside. A look of wild pleasure flashes across her face. I'm pretty sure my expression matches hers. The wind and rain increasing their tempo along with ours. I moan into her mouth as I grind against her.


	8. Chapter 8

The rain lets up but Cameron doesn't. She's found a spot that drives me crazy. Makes me bite my lip in the hopes I won't cry out. Another wave of pleasure crashes into me. Pulling me under. Sweet surrender. "Easy, Cam. This won't be our last time." I manage to speak despite the quivers racing through my body.

She leans in for another deep, lingering kiss. Her fingers still moving, making my insides twist and turn in the most exquisite pleasure/pain. "Sex is fun, Sarah."

I laugh against her neck. I take one last sweet lick. "Is that your expert cybernetic organism opinion on orgasms?" I try to pull away.

She has other plans. Her fingers spreading, catching me off guard as I try to end the sweet madness. "This will require much more research." One more deep thrust and my eyes are threatening to roll to the back of my head.

"You're going to be the death of me, girlie."

She shakes her head, watching as I ride through another crest. Then she gradually pulls her hand away. "Your pulse is elevated and your breathing is shallow but you are not dying. Did you know the French refer to the orgasm as la petite mort, the small death?"

"No, I did not. Thank you, encyclopedia Cameronica."

"Yet another nickname for me." She doesn't even try to conceal the eye roll. "Yours is coming." She idly taunts while moving closer. "Is it wrong that I like this?" She kisses the edge of my mouth. "The way you smile," another soft kiss on the opposite side, "that little growl sound at the back of your throat," a slow lick from one corner of my lips to the other, "your moans, and-"

"Stop." I cut in. If I don't we're likely to start the whole thing up all over again. She's nearly impossible to resist. Lying beside me, a very seductive smile on her full lips. Dark eyes made even darker with lust. Half naked and still glistening from the rain. "We need to get going." I'm not sure if I'm trying to convince her or myself. Her sigh sounds very similar to mine. Our eyes meet and we share a new smile. "We're a mess."

"A hot mess." She raises her eyebrow and her grin widens.

I laugh again. I don't know how she does it but she's got a certain way. It's charming, corny, and almost magically seductive. I hook my finger under her chin and beckon her closer for one last kiss. She tastes like a promise of great things to come. Smooth, sharp, rich, moist, and somehow savory. "We need to go."

"Yes. You said that before." She rises in one fluid motion. Her hand extends and she pulls me to my feet. "There's a hose near the shed. I have a change of clothes in the car. Wait for me." she winks. "I'll be back."

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Leave it to Charley to be more prepared than the average boy scout. Along with the hose is a small stand with soap and paper towels. By the time I'm patting myself dry with a handful of towels Cameron's back. The bag she gives me contains jeans, brown leather boots, a matching jacket, and a green tank top that just about matches the color of my eyes. My new Glock sit below the boots.

She takes a makeshift shower with the hose just as I did. She's unashamedly watching me get dressed. I realize this as I'm watching the water sluice over her flawless skin. "Th-th-thanks." I squeak. I'm humbled by every little thing about her. I clear my throat and try again. "Thanks for the clothes. They fit perfectly."

"Yes. I noticed." She smiles approvingly. "I wasn't sure. You've lost weight. I had to improvise."

"Have I told you lately I like your improvisational skills?"

"You look so sexy in leather." She drops the hose and picks up the nearly empty roll of paper towels. "You are not good at sharing, Sarah."

I'm still reacting to her calling me sexy or I might grumble that a cyborg is complaining about my lack of people skills. "Are you saying I don't play well with others?"

"If the boots fit?"

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We've been on the road for hours. The sun beats hard directly overhead. The truck's AC barely keeping up. Cameron's quietly humming and singing to a moody ballad about a couple who's born to die. The sound of her voice is calming. My eyes are half closed.

Bolts of sideways lightning appear from nowhere and everywhere at once, zapping the truck. The engine seizes. There's no impact with anything other than the bursts of energy. I'm not shocked by it. Instead I'm shocked at the sudden lack of movement. Traveling upwards of fifty miles per hour then coming to an immediate full stop is not good for the body. No airbags. No screeching tires. Just a tightening of the seatbelt and my body slamming back and forth. There's pain. Shellshock.

I'm like a fish on a dock. Gasping at air that seems to hold no oxygen. My eyes glance left and settle on Cameron. Her mouth slack. Big, brown eyes staring blankly ahead. Body slouched. She's offline. Dead. For 120 seconds or forever? I barely get my mind to ask the question when the passenger door is wrenched open.

I'm still too disoriented to react. I recognize the dark haired woman with the cold, angry eyes. I see clearly the hate and disdain. She reaches across and releases the seatbelt. Moments later I'm dragged from the truck. My back slammed against the now closed door.

A fist is headed toward my face. I don't recall any thought. My body just reacting. Duck. Tuck shoulder. Full speed ahead. Contact. Both of us grunting. Falling. Colliding with the pavement. Jesse on the bottom. Me on top.

My right hand drawn back. Fist screaming from where it impacts behind her chin. Her eyes roll. One more solid punch to the same spot and she'll be out cold.

But it's not her who gets the staggering hit. It's me. From somewhere behind me, something heavy and solid hits the base of my neck. I slump forward right on top of her. Eyes forced shut from the ache radiating from my neck and head.

"Rack off, you tosser." Jesse shouts to whoever intervened. "The bitch is all mine." she adds and shoves me aside. "Make sure the other one's not coming back."

"She was about to knock your block off. I shoulda let her." The mystery man grumbles.

"I've got her handled."

"Really sweetheart, 'cause it looks to me like she's about to draw down on you."

Fuck. Jesse's boot collides with my hand. I hear the bones snap. There's too much adrenalin coursing through my veins to feel it. Yet. The Glock flies from my grasp.

I sweep her legs out from under her. She lands on her side. I'm on her in an instant. Kneeing her ribs. My right hand is fairly useless but the left connects with her nose. Blood sprays us both.

A handful of sand stings my eyes. Her fingernails following quickly thereafter. Riley was right. Jesse does fight dirty.

Mentally ticking off the seconds and praying for Cameron to reboot I blindly reach for the gun in a holster on Jesse's thigh. Before I can get to it a large boot belonging to the stranger thuds against the side of my head. I'm barely conscious when his beefy hand fists in my hair. I'm hauled off Jesse and tossed face down in the dirt.

"Keep your sodding romper stompers out of this Garret. Go check the fembot. Make sure she's as dead as you swore she'd be. After that we need the truck. Connor's mine."

"Whatever you say, kangaroo muncher."

"Check yourself, mate."

"You threaten me again and I'll dump your funny talking, sorry ass into a wood chipper and use you for mulch."

Dazed. I slowly get to my knees just in time for Jesse's barrage of kicks and stomps to send me crashing back down. Blood seeping into my eyes. I see two of Jesse and sadly not one of Cameron.

"Where's John?" She yells. She's panting from the exertion of beating me half to death.

"Somewhere you'll never find him." My words are garbled. Something's out of place or maybe broken. I take my eyes off her to search for Cameron. 120 seconds have surely passed. She should be pulverizing Jesse by now.

"Metal's gone, Connor. Out of commission for good. She can't fuck with John's head or yours anymore. You're about to join her. Unless you want John to die alone you I reckon you ought to tell me where he is."

"Never."

The back of her hand comes away dripping with her own blood once she swipes at her nose. She looks at the blood with disgust before she steps over me. Her legs on either side of my waist she slowly sinks until she's seated just above my hips. My already mangled right hand crushed beneath her knee. She snatches my left hand and pins it beneath her other knee.

She draws a knife from somewhere. It's blade already snapped open and coming toward my face. "I'm goin' to enjoy this."

"Just do it."

Her Angelina Jolie plumped up lips spread in a slow grin. "Nah. Don't think so. You'd like it too much if I ended it quickly." She touches the sharp tip against my forehead, slowly applying pressure to pierce the skin. "I'll find John one way or the other." She drags the blade across to my temple. Blood pours.

"What do you want with my son?"

"If he's going to be the Great Leader everybody claims then someone needs to make sure he grows a pair. All your coddling isn't preparing him for what's to come. Derek and me will straighten him out. Teach him to man up."

"No. Derek can't be a part of this. There's no way. He wouldn't. He loves John."

"I reckon you don't know the man as well as you think. Once I bring the little momma's boy to Derek he'll snap out of his funk. He'll come round and he'll know exactly what to do. This will be what they both need. To be rid of the walking tin can and you." She takes the knife to the corner of my eye. "Where's John?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"The harder you make it for me the harder I'll make it for John. Gotta toughen your brat up somehow."

My right knee raises with every reserve of strength I have left. It slams against her back, shaking her off balance. Unfortunately she stabilizes herself with the knee on my right hand. A white hot pain sears through me as I ram my knee upward again and again.

She drops the knife. My suddenly freed left hand smashes against her already broken nose. She falls over, clutching at her spurting face. I grab the knife and roll away from her.

I get to my feet as she's raising her gun. I toss the knife right about the same time she squeezes the trigger.

I flash on an image of John with Charley. I know Charley will give his last breath to save John. We all will. We all do.

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Come and take a walk on the wild side  
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain  
You like your girls insane  
Choose your last words  
This is the last time  
Cause you and I, we were born to die

Lyrics from "Born to Die" by Lana Del Rey

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More to come.


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't care if it hurts.

I want to have control...

What the hell am I doing here?

I don't belong here." Excerpts from Creep by Radiohead

 

Thump, thud, thump, thud, thump, thud. Fast as fast can be. Thump, thud repeatedly.

Pain. White hot. Burning. Intense. Shooting in every direction.

Fuck. Fucked. Thud. Thump. Again and again.

Metal. Twisted. Sharp. Shimmering. Cascading. Crushing. Tightening. Coiling. Dancing. Slicing. Punching. Melting. Stabbing. Pulling. Slamming. Walking. Talking. Shape-shifting. Drowning.

Not again.

My head is a roiling overcooked stew of badly mangled memories, nightmares, and premonitions. Disconnected images bouncing around my skull at a machine gun pace. My body feels like its somehow been encased in a block of jell-o. My eyelids are impossibly heavy. My jaw clenched and unyielding to every command I try to give.

Every ache blossoms and spreads the more I fight for control. Something warm floods through me and a darkness shrouds my troubled mind.

 

The blur in my brain settles on a helicopter. It's blades spinning. Oh, that explains the thump, thud noises. It's not much but everything's been so jumbled for so long I'll take any small victory I can get.

Something is burning. It smells like fuel and death. My eyes are watering. My throat is raw.

The next figure my mind settles on is Weaver. She's leaning over me, invading my personal space like only she can do. My eyes follow as she looks to her left. Ellison is suddenly there. His fingers tracing along my neck. There's worry in his dark eyes. Lips set in a grimace. A quick shake of his head then his finger press harder. "Wait." he shouts to be heard over the chopper. "There's a pulse. Thank God."

"No, James." Weaver wags her finger at him. "Thank me. My union with Sarah is what saved her life."

 

The blender in my mind is flipped back on high. Ellison, Weaver, Cromartie, a bald man with glasses, Megan & Kim from Daytona, and lots of forms of metal shuffle through. The pain in my jaw intensifies to the point I can concentrate on it and nothing else. My mouth opens and closes seemingly on it's own.

No, that isn't right. Fingers clasp my jaw, moving in circles, then manipulating my mouth. I want to open my eyes but they're still to weighed down to lift.

There's a song in the background. A man's voice. Low and soothing. A strange tune I've never heard before.

"Let the wind blow high and the wind blow low  
Through the streets in my kilt I go  
All the lassies cry, "Hello!  
Donald, where's your trousers?" 

Somehow the voice calms my scattered thoughts. I'm able to concentrate for the first time in much too long. I remember Jesse attacking me, kicking my ass really. Blood flowing as she slices me with her blade. She's threatening to take John.

"I went to a fancy ball  
It was slippery in the hall  
I was afeared that I may fall  
Because I nay had on trousers"

My mind is screaming for Cameron. Where the hell is she? Why isn't she ripping Jesse to pieces?

My last day in Pescadero flashes in front of me. My eyes finally open. It's not Uncle Bob this time. Cromartie, the latest machine of my nightmares towers above me. His hand on my mouth. His own mouth slack as he stops singing mid lyric.

My breath catches. This is the machine it took John, Derek, Cameron, myself, and a shitload of bullets to bring down. I'm in a hospital bed. No weapon. Except... My fingers are clutching the IV needle almost simultaneously as my eyes spot it. I tear it loose and jab it in Cromartie's eye.

He backpedals. "Stop, Ms. Connor. I only wish to help you."

I try to back away, to get out of the bed. I'm to weak.

Cromartie grabs me easily and holds me down. "Please remain calm. You are recovering from numerous extensive injuries. You require rest." The needle jutting from his eye isn't quite as unnerving to me as how much he sounds like a terminized version of the creepy, soft spoken Mr. Rogers "Wouldn't you like to be my neighbor?" guy.

"John Henry!" Weaver rounds the corner. She sees the needle in his eye and does a move I thought Cameron held the trademark on. She tilts her head and then eyes me warily. "You should not have done that, Sarah."

"Get this bastard off me."

"My son is not a bastard."

"Your son?" I glance from one to the other then back to her. "You don't- I mean you can't. I-it's not possible."

"Although not in the conventional sense, I can assure you John Henry is indeed my son." Weaver explains as she examines my bloody arm. "Your injuries have just about healed and you set about making new ones."

"Who's John Henry? His name is Cromartie."

"No. You destroyed Cromartie in the desert. This is John Henry."

"I don't understand."

"It is the drugs, Ms. Connor." He calmly explains while yanking the needle from his eye. "You suffered a bullet wound, two lacerations, a fractured mandible, three cracked ribs, two separate fractures to your wrist, a dislocated thumb, two broken fingers, and eleven contusions. You were unconscious for three weeks. It is only natu-"

"Three weeks?!" I cut him off and immediately turn my gaze on Weaver. "You've kept me drugged for three weeks?"

She nods her head in the affirmative. Her blue eyes more menacing than usual. "I should have your gratitude instead of your ire. Did you not hear John Henry's list of your injuries? Our unification not only saved your life it hastened your recovery by as much as three times that of any other woman in your age range. Perhaps another day of rest would encourage your appreciation of the gifts I've bestowed upon you. Pass me a vial of Ativan, John Henry."

"No more drugs."

"That sounds more like an order than a thank you, Sarah. Don't you think so, John Henry?"

He doesn't reply right away. His Hazel eyes flit back and forth between Weaver and I like a sports spectator. "Ms. Connor has only just awakened. This place is unfamiliar to her. She is flanked by terminators. Human contact would benefit her greatly. Also, she removed her IV prematurely. She is in need of a new bandage. Afterward she should have ice chips to soothe her throat. Forcing a sedative on her at this point would only heighten her hostility toward us. If you still require validation and justification for your actions from Ms. Connor I am certain she will be grateful to you later."

Weaver watched him closely as he spoke. While his monotone raised goose flesh on my arms and made me wish I had my Glock it had the exact opposite effect on her. The angry expression on her face melted away. The corners of her lips raising ever so slightly in a weird Mona Lisa type smile.

"Impressive, my boy. Your observation and deductive reasoning skills have improved tenfold."

Watching the bizarre mother/son moment had me wondering about my own son. I was supposed to be gone with Cameron for a day or two. Not three weeks. "Where's John? How could you keep me here and leave him unprotected for so long?"

Although I directed my question at Weaver it was John Henry who answered. "Your son is safe. He is with his girlfriend, and Charley Dixon."

I groaned. "He's back with Riley?"

"No. However she is also in the shelter. She trains to be a soldier. She will never lead. She will make a good fighter or perhaps a decoy."

My head spun. The lingering effects of the drugs still clouding my thoughts. "But you said he's with his girlfriend. If not Riley then who?" For the briefest of moments I thought about Cameron. Ice crept into my veins.

"Do not look so stricken, Sarah." Weaver rejoined the conversation. "Cameron is here. She is still being attended to. I have my top computer experts and doctors assisting in her repair. John Henry has spoken out of turn. The female he's referring to is Q."

If I had the strength I might have laughed. "John is dating the strong and silent one?"

"Your son chose wisely. Q will defend him with her dying breath. She will also lead troops and has the capacity to bear children."

"What's your deal? Are you a psychic terminator?"

Weaver cleared her throat before he could reply. "We have much to discuss, Sarah. Jesse's attack on you and Cameron was only the beginning. Kaliba sent men after John and Charley. Do not fret. They are both unharmed. Riley was shot but will make a full recovery. Q collected them all and brought them to an underground bomb shelter. Kaliba's strike was two pronged. They also sent a terminator after my daughter, Savannah."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. You're making my head hurt. I need coffee and a shower." I lifted the thin sheet and realized I was completely naked underneath. Tubes were sticking out of places they had absolutely no place being. "And I need this catheter and whatever else you've got me hooked up to gone as soon as possible. Then you can tell me all about Weaver's terminator nursery. How the hell many kids do you have? Are they all terminators? Where's Cameron? What do you mean you have a team working on her? What exactly happened to her?"

"Cameron has been offline since Jesse's attack. Her circuits were destroyed by an EMP. As a parting gift, Jesse tossed a hand grenade into the truck where Cameron was already incapacitated. The grenade caused a fire. Cameron's skin was burned off. However her endoskeleton remains intact."

"No. God, no." I looked toward the ceiling to ward off the tears. "Please, take me to her."

"You made your demands. Dr. Megan and Kim will attend to you. Once you are cleaned up and dressed we shall talk more." She turned to address John Henry. "Under no circumstances are you to talk to Sarah without my presence. Have I made myself clear?"

John Henry nodded once. "Of course."

"Bitch." I grumbled to Weaver's retreating back.

John Henry surprised me with a wink. "She can be. As can you."

"You're talking to me?"

He held up his hand to show me his crossed fingers. "I can bend the rules."


	10. Chapter 10

"Are you ready maybe?  
Do you long to confess?  
Do you feel that you're already numb?  
Are you sure of yourself?  
Would you lie if you're not?"

Lyrics from "Put Your Arms Around Me" by Texas

 

"You can bend the rules, huh?" I question my new possible ally. Seeing a terminator with a plug at the back of his head is quite a change of pace. "Looks to me like you're a freak on a leash."

He tilts his head to the side. It seems to be a universal terminator move. "Freak on a leash? From your tone I gather you wish to insult me however I do not understand."

His slow manner of speak and oddly innocent expression has me feeling slightly guilty for my sarcasm. "The cord. What's with the cord, John Henry?"

"Ms. Weaver has yet to procure a salvageable chip for me. In the future your son is able to reprogram terminators to aid his Resistance. Skynet's defensive maneuver is to coat chips with phosphorous. If the chip is exposed to oxygen it combusts. At the present time there is no suitable portable means to contain my advanced brain. I am forced to wait for technology to catch up."

I wonder if he knows Cameron's chip is removable. I know Weaver is aware. Was Weaver feeding me a bullshit story about her damages? Something must be telling on my face or John Henry is such a brainiac he can read minds.

His expression softens. "Cameron improves daily. It may even be beneficial you regained consciousness today. It is possible Cameron can be brought back online today as well. She is close. I have monitored her repairs and recovery as I have kept close track of yours. I convinced Ms. Weaver to have your bed moved here to my quarters so that I could provide twenty-four hour protection and constant physical therapy. When you attempt to move later you should notice only a slight decrease in your muscle and joint functions."

"Where is she? I need to see her."

"Are you certain, Ms. Connor? She is not fully restored. Her recovery has been much more complicated than yours. She was stripped to her endo."

Bile crept it's way up and into my throat. I choked it back thinking of the first terminator I'd encountered. It's endo, a freakish metal upgrade or abomination of the human skeleton, frightened me so much I thought I'd lose my mind. The machine kept coming and coming like a mutant energizer bunny crossed with the hulk and fed steroids for every meal. Bullets, bombs, fire, car wrecks, not a damn thing seemed to stop it.

An alarm sounds from one of the machines I'm hooked up to. I'm breathing too fast. My mouth is dry. My heartbeat speeds up and I can hear it pounding in my head. My chest feels tight as though a leaden vest had been draped across it. The thought of Cameron as I knew her over the past few months reduced to her basest raw form is too much.

"You are hyperventilating, Ms. Connor. You must decrease your breathing rate. One breath every five seconds should suffice."

Easier said than done.

Dr. Megan McLeod enters the room and switches the alarm off. Her amethyst eyes wide. "Step away from her, John Henry. She's having a panic attack."

"I am fully aware." John Henry states as he takes a step backward. "Do you require my assistance?"

"How long has she been awake? Did you do anything to her?"

"Ms. Connor regained consciousness 21 minutes and 23 seconds ago. I was massaging her jaw at the time. She then stabbed my eye with her IV needle and-"

"She what?" she sucks in a breath as she looks at the blood on my arm and the already stained gauze. Her eyes lock onto mine. "It's ok, Sarah." Her voice is soothing. She sounds much different from the last time I'd seen her when she'd tried to shoot me. She brushes my hair out of my eyes and tells me to focus on her. "We need to get you calm. Purse your lips. Breathe slowly. You were sedated quite a while. I'd rather not give you anymore drugs."

I shake my head and will my breathing to slow. My heart rate gradually returns to normal. My vision clears and I am able to see the writing on her shirt. I almost wish for the blurriness to return.

"I'm Magically Delicious!" in big, bold, blue letters on a tight pink shirt.

I groan and look back at her smiling face. "I see you're still expressing yourself."

"It's casual Friday."

"Of course it is."

The cell phone in her pocket chirps. "Ms. Weaver wants you."

That sounds so appallingly wrong. I cringe.

She laughs nervously when the phone chirps three more times in rapid succession. "Oh, ok, it makes more sense now. Sometimes my texts are received in a random order. You'd think a company that specializes in cutting edge tech would have excellent cell phone reception. But no. Same issues here as out in the real world. We have 90 minutes or less to get you back on your feet and presentable. She wants you in Eden."

"Eden, as in the Garden of Eden?"

"Very good, Ms. Connor." John Henry pipes up. "I am pleased you know the Bible. The book is a conundrum to me. It seems to be a fantasy but many revere it. Ms. Weaver often references it. The level we are on now is called Babylon. Cameron is being restored in Eden."

A monitor behind him flicks on. What's left of Cameron's head fills the giant screen. More than half of her face is missing. Her bloody endo skull visible. "This is how Cameron appeared when she was first brought there." The camera pans down and shows most of her Coltan frame. Only one boot remains and a few bits of charred skin. "Ms. Weaver's team removed the remainder of her skin." An image of a gleaming highly polished endoskeleton fills up the screen next. It is much more compact and intricate than the lumbering T-888 sent after me in 1984. "Ms. Weaver procured the blood. Mr. Murch, Dr. Kim, and Dr. McLeod all assisted in treating the blood and producing the organic matter required for Cameron to reform her skin."

Weaver stands beside an industrial sized tub filled with what looks to be thick, dark blood. She sports a pair of purple latex gloves. A Dr.'s mask covers her nose and mouth. I watch in horrified amazement as a fleshy, bloody, veiny mass rises from the vat. The eyelids appear sealed. It has a squished in, misshapen nose. A cord like John Henry's extends from the back of its head.

My monitors are beeping faster as my pulse quickens. I hear myself gasping and am powerless to stop it.

"Stop it, John Henry." Megan orders from beside me.

The image freezes as Weaver steps forward with a scalpel in her gloved hand.

"No. I have to see this. I have to know."

Megan moves quickly, producing a syringe and pressing the needle into my upper arm. "Just to take the edge off."

"Bitch." I grumble as a warmth floods through me. I'm still awake but my head is suddenly fogged and I feel strangely at ease despite what's happening to me and what I'm seeing.

She checks my pulse then shines a light in my eyes before she nods to John Henry. "Ok, I think she's ready to see the rest."

Weaver's image resumes walking toward the being in the tub. She turns the head toward her and makes slits where the eyes should be. Two glowing, red orbs shine brightly. A moment later they flick to blue. I've only ever seen one terminator with the ability to change its eyes from red rage to peaceful blue.

My stomach lurches. There's nothing in it. I dry heave.

"She is doing much better now, Ms. Connor. The entire team has helped speed up the process of her healing. I've seen pictures of the damage my head and body received after you and your family ambushed my former self. As you can see, I am as good as new. Even better, for your sake. It is no longer my mission to terminate you and John." He smiles mechanically.

The smile is usually the hardest thing for any of them to master. Even Weaver still has trouble with it. Not Cameron. For as long as I've known her she's always had a smile to melt hearts and bring men and apparently women to their knees. That is, until she was reduced to the thing in the tub.

"So, what is your mission this time around?" I ask.

He tilts his head. He seems to be genuinely puzzled. It takes a few seconds for him to reply. "I am not certain I have one. Ms. Weaver wishes me to learn. She has brought in teachers. I do a great deal of research on my own." He frowns suddenly. "However I do not know my exact purpose."

Lovely, I think to myself as Megan continues to remove all of the whatnots I'm attached to. There's some pain but whatever she gave me makes me not quite able to give a fuck. She puts a robe on me and helps me out of the bed.

 

The shower is good. The heat soothes my body and clears some of the dullness from my head. I wrap a plush towel around myself and step out to find Megan is not alone. Dr. Kim is sitting on the edge of the vanity. Long, tan legs dangling. Black shiny boots to her knees and a matching short, tight skirt. At first glance it looks like a retro Mountain Dew shirt but the lettering has been changed to "Mount and Do Me."

"Mmmm," she practically purrs. "Looks like you're damn near as indestructible as your sexy lover. And just about as hot."

I roll my eyes at her. "Shower's open if you need a cold one."

Megan covers her mouth and lets out a noise that sounds a little more like a chuckle than a cough.

Kim just keeps smiling and looking me up and down. She knows it pisses me off. "Play nice, Sarah. I brought you something to wear." she says as she passes me a small stack of clothes.

Oh dear God. I can only imagine. Thoughts of the cherry stem trick flicker in my head. She and Megan are slightly off balance but they'd helped Cameron and I guess even me so I suppose I have no true justification to haul off and smack the Cheshire cat grin from her face.

"Is it possible I could have some privacy while I dress?"

She hops off the counter and hooks her arm around Megan's waist. "Five minutes." She holds up her finger and wags it like I've seen Weaver do before. "It's best not to keep the redhead waiting." she does a surprisingly good imitation of Weaver's brogue.

Megan laughs and the shock of it all is I do too. I didn't expect I'd laugh so soon after what I'd recently learned but somehow I do. Guilt hits me like a boot upside the head. How could I laugh after what had been done to Cameron?

I sheepishly glanced at the mirror once they are gone. My skin is ghostly pale. My dark hair a sharp contrast. My eyes seem a darker shade of green. Probably a result of no sun and a crapload of drugs. I had inspected my body during the shower. All the old scars were present and accounted for. Interestingly enough I couldn't find any new ones. I lean toward the mirror to get a better look at my forehead. I remember Jesse dragging a knife across my skin.

A thin scar just above the corner of my left eyebrow goes across and stops between my eyes. I remember distinctly how she made an incision that should have reached to the other corner. Then I have a flash of her firing a gun. I remember an impact with the right side of my head. Pain and blackness followed. I pull my hair back and look closer. There's no further scarring. What the fuck?

A loud knock startles me. "One more minute, Sarah."

"I'll be out when I'm out. Shut up." I snap at her as I open a sealed package containing a pair of black satin and lace underwear and a matching bra. I check the sizes, wondering how someone or God help me some machine had guessed so accurately. Then I try not to think anymore as I hastily dress in jeans and boots. The form fitting shirt is too much. It was surely picked by Kim. "You couldn't handle me if I came with instructions." At least it's black.

 

Weaver bares her teeth as I enter sterile looking office filled with lots of polished chrome and glass. There is a combination lock door complete with a spinning safe handle behind her. Her steely gaze settles on Megan and Kim. "You may go."

"But if you're about to wake Sleeping Beauty I want to be here." Kim whines.

"You have an affinity for Sleeping Beauty, do you?" Weaver's eyebrow arches at the end of her question. "I could see to it that you go to sleep and never wake up."

Kim is so ballsy she looks like she wants to protest but Megan grabs her arm and pulls her from the room. The door whooshes closed and I'm alone with Weaver. She stands and smoothes the front of her white dress. Her lips curve in a smirk. "Say, that's a nice shirt."

This coming from a woman wearing a Wilma Flintstone dress. Her hair is even back in a bun. Pearls grace her neck. I ignore her comment and take a calming breath. "So, I'm guessing Kim was referring to Cameron when she mentioned Sleeping Beauty. Where is she?"

"We shall go see her soon. First, we have a matter to discuss." She indicates the chair in front of her. "Please be seated."

My initial instinct is to demand to see Cameron immediately, but I'm dealing with Weaver. I know the day will be long and fraught with battles. I decide to save my strength for the bigger ones. I take a seat.

She sits in her high-backed silver chair. Her right hand folded across her chest and her left in the air near her face, fingers curved. "I understand you had some..." Her fingers rub together as she selects the right word. "difficulty dealing with Cameron's recuperation. By all accounts you appeared troubled, to say the least."

I nodded. There was no point in arguing. "It was a shock."

"Yes. I would imagine so. What I can't imagine is how you feel about her today as opposed to three weeks ago before Jesse's assault on the two of you."

"I don't care what you can't imagine. If you have a point, get to it."

"I wish to know your feelings for Cameron? What does she mean to you? Do you love her, like her, tolerate her, hate her?"

"Move on, Weaver. It's none of your business."

Her head shakes back and forth. "I'm afraid it is."

"This is bullshit. I'm not discussing this with you. Take me to her."

"Answer my questions, first."

"What difference does it make?"

Her smoke lined eyes narrow. Her mouth pursed. "Are you familiar with the term, quid pro quo?"

I sigh and do a mental count to five. "Yeah, you want to trade information."

"Very good." she nods once. "The EMP Jesse used on Cameron did major damage to her CPU. Her data has been erased."

This day just keeps getting unbelievably worse. I think about the plug I saw coming from her the back of her head. "Did she..." my voice cracks. I swallow and try again. "Did she revert back to her Skynet directives?"

"No. Everything has been completely expunged."

My eyes water. Panic tries to take over. I let my anger squash it. "Why the fuck did you ask me how I feel about her? If her memory is wiped and she's stuck on a tether like your pet she's as good as dead. It doesn't fucking matter how I feel."

"Good or bad your feelings are certainly passionate. I appreciate passion. Without it the machines will surely win." She stands and places her fingers on the glass desktop. She bends forward at an angle impossible for a human to duplicate. "However passion needs to be tempered with patience and a guarded tongue. You would do well to remember with whom you speak. John Henry is not my pet. He is my son."

"Sure, fine, whatever."

She steps forward, right through the desk. Her body seeming to split then oozing back together. She's solid again and her hands on the arms of my chair. Her face invading my personal space. "I can bring her back, Sarah. I have the ability. Tell me what you feel for her."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. No one needs to know but us. Do you regret the most recent turn in your relationship with her? Do you wish you'd never gone on the mission to find Megan and Kim?"

I'm trapped in the chair. Breathing in what she breathes out. My thoughts scattered and going through my brain at a mile a minute. Stolen kisses with Cameron, sex, arguments, and me hitting her with a gun. Her stepping on my stomach, pressing on an already open wound. Her coltan endo glistening on Weaver's table. The freakish blob of veins and muscles rising from the container of blood.

"I do not ask these questions merely to satisfy my own curiosity. Jesse's attack has presented you with a rare opportunity. Say the right words and I will grant your wish. Do you remember our time together on my private jet?"

"Of course I do. What about it?"

"While Cameron was deactivated, I had possession of her chip. I made a copy. At that point in time the two of you had not arrived in Daytona. You had not done anything more than share three kisses. You have been afforded the gift of being able to rewrite your history with Cameron. If you choose I can restore her memory there. Cameron need never know how or if your relationship progressed."

My head was pounding. My stomach flipped and flopped. I needed more air. I kept my eyes focused on her cold stare. The blemish above her eye once again caught my attention. "Cameron did that to you, didn't she?"

Weaver released the arms of my chair and slowly stood to her full height. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes flitting as she briefly calculated something. "Aye. She did."

"If this whole thing hadn't happened the way it did would you ever have told me you had copies of Cameron's data?"

"No. I would not."

I nodded, satisfied she was at least telling me the truth on that issue. "What's my other option for a restore point?"

"I made another copy on the morning after you consummated your liaison with Cameron. The day of her upgrade. Before you give your answer you need to consider all your feelings toward her. The way you felt before you saw her from the inside out. And the way you seemed revolted afterward. Did you and she make love? Was it just sex? What does the pretty terminator mean to you?"

"I don't know."

"Well, then, I suggest you take some time to figure that out." She passed me a cell phone. There's a map to your new quarters. I don't suppose you'll want to be roommates with John Henry any longer. You are free to roam the building, but you cannot leave. Call me when you've made a decision."

To be continued...

 

Thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11

Weaver stands in front of an unmarked door. Her head tilts slightly as she rests her chin on her knuckles. Her expression seems thoughtful. "Perhaps this will help you reach your decision." Her other hand slides into the pocket of her crisp white dress and withdraws a red flare. "You may or may not need this." Ever the cryptic cyborg.

"And why would I need this?" I ask as I take the flare from her. "Expecting car trouble?"

She doesn't answer me. She's very nearly perfected the Mona Lisa smile. "Good luck, Sarah." She pushes the door open and holds it for me.

I'm walking forward before I can give it any thought. My eyes are on Cameron.

Cameron's got the Johnny Cash look down pat. She's wearing black from head to boot. A leather belt with silver studs providing the only color. Her arms are folded across her chest. There's at least a two inch gap between the bottom of her spaghetti strap shirt and the top of her low-rise, second skin jeans. The slight dip of her chin has caused her hair to fall forward and partially obscure her dark eyes. She manages to look bored and expectant all at once.

The room we're in is larger than I expected. The ceiling is high. There's a fire raging in a pit in the center. To the left is a cement bed much like the one Cameron burned the Triple 8 who'd gone after Derek in. There's a container of Thermite on the floor next to it. To the right of the fire pit is an actual bed. An oversized king covered in black satin. Dozens of blood red pillows of various shapes and sizes take up nearly half the ample space.

Cameron is just about perfectly centered between the two beds. Her expression hasn't changed. She's made no movement at all. The undulating fire highlighting the flecks of gold in her dark hair as well as in her eyes.

I reach behind me for the doorknob and am not at all surprised to find it locked from the other side. Fucking Weaver. "What are you doing here, Cameron?"

"I think you know." Her tone is soft.

There's no challenge behind the words. My anger rises anyway. "Damn it, Cameron, why does everything have to be so difficult with you? You never make anything easy. Why are you here?"

"You wanted me here."

"Bullshit."

We slip into a stand off for a few minutes. She's quiet. I'm quiet. She stands statue still, appearing to be content to mock breathe and watch me. My every nerve tingles. I'm caged and cornered.

"I understand you have a decision to make." She finally breaks the silence.

"What are you talking about?"

She scoffs in a manner than reminds me of myself. "You are the one being difficult, Sarah. You are the one in denial."

I try to speak but my mouth is suddenly too dry. I swallow, then lick my lips and try again. "What did Weaver tell you?"

She uncrosses her arms. For the first time I get a look at her left hand. It's naked of skin. Shiny Coltan from fingertips to wrist. She holds it up and lets the flames illuminate it further. "When you slept with me did you think I'd miraculously changed from a killing machine into an actual woman?"

Shit. Did I? Had I actually let myself believe a lie to justify the attraction? My eyes are drawn to the metal hand. Desire at war with fear and loathing.

I pace the length of the room on my side of the fire. I won't let myself look at her. She's beautiful. Deceptive. Too easy to get caught up in. Big eyes the color of a smooth, aged whiskey that sometimes have the effect of drinking a full bottle.

"Weaver has made two beds for us. You have to choose which one you want me to lie in. Do you want me burned and gone? I will go without a fight."

"I don't want to burn you."

"Good." she matches her pace to mine on her side of the fire for a few strides then pauses. "Look at me. What do you see?"

I stop with her. My eyes pausing on the hand a moment. I steel my resolve and reluctantly return her penetrating gaze. I could drown in her. "I don't see a what, Cameron. I see you. You're more than wires and circuits. You're not a thing. You've evolved. I'm not oblivious to the changes."

Her lips start to curve upward but stop at the halfway point. "You don't want me in Thermite." Her head turns toward the bed. "Does that mean you want me in satin?"

I use the ploy of brushing my hair back out of my eyes with my fingers to break the eye contact. "I don't know what it means." I admit after a bit. "I don't know much of anything at the moment. I need time."

"Do you want to know what I want?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Sure. Why not?"

"I want you." She moves quickly. Right through the fire. I inhale a breath and she's directly in front of me. Her hands grasp me just above the elbows. She's pinning me to the cement wall. Her grip is not painful. It is simply unyielding. The way she's looking at me tears at my heart.

Her eyes are unflinching. There's a hunger and a need that match my own. Her body only just comes into contact with mine. We are just about the same height. Our bodies line up almost perfectly. Knees, thighs, hips, and breasts lightly touching. Her lips so close we share breaths.

I take it back. Her gaze is not entirely unflinching. Underneath the facade is a hesitance born of a desire to be accepted.

Her nearness pries the lid on my emotions. The air around us suddenly heavy. A heady mix of desire and fear envelops me. "Cameron... please..."

"Please what?" She continues invading my space. "Kiss you?" She leans in and does just that. A slow brush of her lips across mine. "Make love to you?" She presses her body tighter to mine. "Fuck you?" Her left hand goes behind my neck and draws my lips back to hers. The metal is icy at first but warms rapidly. Her lips part and her tongue slides lazily along my lips. At the same time the nails of her right hand graze me from hip to breast.

"The last one." My words little more than a whisper against her mouth.

This is new. Every other encounter we'd shared had been initiated by me. Cameron never takes the lead when it comes to sex. It's the only time she's timid.

Not this time. This time she's acting like I'm a mission. Instead of killing me, she's intent on pleasing. Teasing. Stealing my breath in ecstasy instead of death.

Her lips and hands roam freely as she guides me away from the wall, backward toward the bed. It seems as urgent for her to touch me as it is for me to be touched. I've wanted her before, but never like this. This is all consuming lust.

I push her away just for a second to drag her shirt over her head. A sheer black lace bra barely covers the bottoms of her breasts. A hint of her taut, tan nipples comes into view. I bend forward to lick one and am rewarded with a soft moan. I go from a lick to a soft suck and she's growls low in her throat.

The backs of my knees bump the mattress. She gives me a nudge and I'm sitting. She takes hold of my hips and pulls me flush with her body. My knees part to her. Her kisses are hungry. Her hands as busy as her lips. First, jerking my boots off then settling on my belt and the button of my jeans. Soft, persistent lips sliding down my neck as her fingers slide the zipper down.

"Fuck."

"Exactly." I feel her smile against my neck.

"Lose the bra, Cameron."

"Always so bossy." she whispers against my breasts. She finishes removing my pants and I'm already raising my hips to meet her.

I bite my bottom lip, sliding backward to make room for her between my legs. Her mouth meets mine again. Her hands covering my breasts, adept fingers pinching and toying with my nipples until I'm breathing ragged with need.

At some point during the lingering kiss she did follow orders. Her bra joined mine on the floor. She arches against me. "Fuck."

She laughs softly. "You keep saying that."

I laugh with her. "I'm trying to give you an order."

"Mmmmmm," her head dips and she's licking in the valley between my breasts. "that's an order I'll happily follow." She kisses lower at an achingly slow pace. Kisses spread from side to side in no particular pattern. Her soft hair dusting across my ribs and chest.

"Fuck." I hiss when her tongue darts lower.

"I'm getting there, Sarah." she teases. Her breath against my flesh is an added caress. Her mouth hovering below my belly button. Alternating kisses with licks and nibbles. Her hands traveling from my knees up to my thighs.

My knees skim along her bare hips and ribs in an effort to embrace her. My fingers weaving through her hair. Slowly tracing patterns on her scalp.

She starts to lower her head, but I catch her and urge her back up. Sweat slicked skin sliding over mine. I pull her in for a deep kiss. My fingers move between her thighs. A surprised gasp from her lips to my mouth. She is wet, warm, and inviting.

Her hand grasps my wrist and stills my questing digits. "I need to be in charge. Just this once. Please, Sarah."

"Okay," I find my own self gasping as her hand mimics what I had just done to her. My body writhes at the twin assault of her mouth and fingers.

"You twisted bitch." A distinctly Australian female voice cuts through the fog my brain is wallowing in. "You're sick. Sicker than I ever imagined."

I know who it is before I open my eyes. The dark wavy, hair surrounding a face contorted in anger. She's got the Thermite in her hands. Shaking it so the powder covers Cameron and I. The flare Weaver had given me is clenched in her other fist.

Cameron is frozen in place. The only thing moving is her eyes. She's poised above me. The horror I feel is mirrored in her eyes. A single tear drops and splashes my thigh.

"Any last words?" Jesse asks.

"I'll save you a place in hell."

She smirks, ignites the flare and allows it to fall.

There's a blinding flash. Flames engulf us. The heat is intense. Consuming. Alive as it brings death.

88888888

"Sarah. Wake up. It's just a nightmare."

I open my eyes and Kim is standing beside my bed. I sit up fast and put a chunk of distance between us. My breathing is as ragged as it had been in the dream. I clutch the sweat drenched shirt cover my chest. My heart hammering and head pounding. Nausea making me try to hold my breath.

"That must have been a hell of a dream. Are you all right? Can I get you anything?"

"Water," I choke out.

Kim backs away and enters the bathroom. She returns in a hurry with a full glass. "Anything else?"

I take the glass and chug the whole thing. "As soon as I catch my breath I need to see Weaver again. She's going to bring Cameron back and then her and I are going to throw an Aussie bitch on a barbie."

88888888

More to come...

"Time stands still  
Beauty in all she is  
I will be brave  
I will not let anything take away  
What's standing in front of me  
Every breath  
Every hour has come to this"

Lyrics from "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri


	12. Chapter 12

"I walked into the battle blind  
It happens almost all the time  
The yard is kind of overgrown  
And all those happy times are gone

But it doesn't mean a thing to me  
It doesn't mean a thing to me  
And it's about time you see  
That things ain't like they used to be"

Lyrics from "Things Ain't Like They Used to Be" by the Black Keys

 

88888888

Kim gives a slight shake of her head from side to side. Her perfectly messy hair bouncing and then falling right back into place. "Be reasonable, Sarah. You just came out of a coma yesterday. You can't go after Jesse now."

I give her the 'get back stare' and kick the covers off. I grab my pants off the end table and quickly put them on. "Take me to Weaver or get out of my way." I order as I button my jeans.

The brazenness of Kim always amazes me. She stands her ground. Hands on slender hips, hazel eyes determined. "Maybe the bullet to the head did more damage than Weaver thought."

"I got my ass kicked. I didn't get shot."

"Yes, you did. I saw it happen."

"That's bullshit. You weren't there when Jesse attacked."

"Big brother, John Henry was. He has access to every satellite in the atmosphere. I watched the entire encounter in crisp HD. Jesse is one very F'd up individual. You were holding your own though. A couple times I thought you were going to flip the tables and get the best of her. If she hadn't had the thug there to help her she wouldn't have won. To top it all off she shot you in the head."

She's so sure. It gives me pause. My head starts hurting out of spite as I try to think back. Jesse's angry face swims across my brain. I remember the knife. I walk past Kim and into the bathroom. I again check my forehead and again find no new scars. "I don't remember getting shot. I did get cut. There was a lot of blood. I could hardly see." I trace my fingers where I remember the knife digging in. "What the hell's going on? Why don't I have any marks on me?"

Her shoulders bunch up as she shrugs. "Beats me. Weaver said she uh, somehow, she merged with you when we were all in Florida. I'm not clear on the details. Her chemistry is very far outside the scope of my knowledge. She claims the various alloys in her body have healing and restorative features. It seems to be true because you healed from mortal wounds and at a highly accelerated rate."

This is a lot to take in. My eyes narrow. I rake my fingers through my hair and across my scalp. No scar tissue. No lumps. "So, Weaver's turned me into some sort of freak?"

Her head shakes. "You say it like it's a bad thing. I'd say it's more like she's given you a super power. It's not like the bullet just grazed you. It went in just above your eye. By all rights you should be dead."

"Why do people keep telling me that?"

"Beats me. Megan might know more. Do you want me to get her?"

"Nope. I don't have time to worry about it. The longer I let Jesse run around unchecked the more time she has to come up with a plan to hurt John or fuck the world over." I pick up the phone Weaver gave me earlier and try to make it cooperate. I know it has GPS and a detailed map of Zeira Corp. I bypass Kim and head out the door.

She catches up to me easily. "So, tell me, are you intentionally heading to our recycling and waste facility?"

"Fucking Android phones and terminators. Every so called technological advancement is conspiring against me." I grumble.

"I don't know if anyone has ever told you this but you're kind of paranoid."

The urge to grab her and throttle her is damn near overwhelming. "Careful, Kim. The last person who said that to me wound up with a broken arm and a syringe full of drain cleaner in his neck."

"Easy." She holds her hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry. It was supposed to be a joke." she shrugs. "A bad one. Sometimes I get carried away. Give me the phone and I'll help you."

I'm still torn between smacking her or handing over the phone. I take a step toward her and she backs away so fast she bounces into the wall. It's a little childish but I feel better. I suck in a ragged breath and offer her the phone.

She's not nearly as cocky as she comes forward just close enough to take it then backs away in a hurry. She wordlessly flips the phone in a different direction. Her fingers quickly press and slide across the glass screen. A moment later a female voice fills the silence. "Greetings Sarah Connor. My name is AnyEvs. I will guide you anywhere you would like." The screen projects a mirror image to the highly polished floor in front of us. "You are here." A pink arrow lights up. "Where would you like to be?"

I roll my eyes at Kim, "Is this for real?"

"Uh-huh, Weaver must really like you. This is one of the prototypes I created for her. We left that iphone Siri bitch in the dust. This phone allows for all voice commands. You never have to search for anything. Just tell AnyEvs Anything and Everything you want and she'll help you achieve it. You get it right, anything and every-"

"Yeah, I get it. I'm map challenged. I'm not an idiot. I want out of this building."

"Nuh-uh, not happening." She shakes her head. "If anything happens to you Weaver will chop my head off."

"Come on. Grow a pair. Get me the hell out of here."

"Silence AnyEvs." Kim presses a button on the side of the phone and the holographic map disappears. "It's best to conserve her battery. I can guide you around here. It's only four in the morning. I'll take you to the food court. We can get a bite to eat. You can fill me in on the situation with hot bot."

Hot bot? I repeat in my head, then groan when I realize what she means. "Cameron will kick your ass if she hears you call her that. You're a wiz kid in engineering and A.I. You should know she's a cyborg."

"Yeah, yeah. I do know that but hot bot is cool. There's nothing cool that rhymes with borg."

"How about morgue?" My right eyebrow arches. "That's where I'm going to put you if -"

"Easy." She holds her hands up again. A slow smirk spreading across her lips. "You're funny, Sarah. I think I really do like you. Come on, we'll get coffee."

Even the promise of coffee isn't enough to sway me from my mission. "Call Weaver."

"I told you. It's four-"

"Relax. She's a terminator. She doesn't sleep."

"Weaver does. Or at least she pretends to for her daughter's sake." She argues while pressing in Weaver's number. "Yes. I'm aware of the time. I'm with Sarah. She wants to see you right away." she pauses a moment as she listens to whatever Weaver is saying. "I'm sorry we disturbed Savannah. I'm sure Sarah is too. Yes, we'll be there in ten minutes." she hangs up and leads us through a maze of hallways to a king size silver elevator.

"This place is huge. All shades of white, chrome, or gray. There's nothing to differentiate one area from the next. If I didn't have you here to lead me around I'd probably find a shotgun somewhere and have to blow my way out."

"Bad idea. If we disturb her daughter again Weaver will probably lock us both in a cell."

"She really has a kid? A human kid who has no clue she's not human?"

Kim's shoulders rise as we ride the elevator. "Savannah is very smart. I'm sure she's aware her mother is different. She's afraid of her though. She'd never tell her she suspects anything is the matter."

"That thing shouldn't have a kid."

"Do you want to be the one to tell Weaver that?"

"When the time is right I will. Right now, my priority is Cameron. I need her to help me deal with Jesse."

In a repeat of the day before Weaver orders Kim to wait outside. She ignores Kim's complaints and ushers me into her office. In the corner of her office, a mini version of Weaver is sitting at Weaver's Desk. A box of crayons scattered across the glass surface. She looks up and smiles timidly.

"This is my daughter, Savannah. She is the light of my life."

I force a smile. "Hi."

"Savannah, say hello to Ms. Connor."

"Sarah." I cut in. "Just Sarah."

Savannah's smile widens. There's a spark in her blue eyes. Definitely human. "Hello Just Sarah." she finishes on a giggle.

"Mind your manners, Savannah."

"Give her a break."

Weaver's eyes cut to me. I glare right back. "She's a kid. Just being a kid."

"I do not condone insolence."

"She wasn't being insolent. She was making a joke."

"Wait here." Weaver orders before walking past me to step out into the hall.

Savannah keeps her eyes trained on the door until it closes behind Weaver then she whispers. "Are you crazy?"

I chuckle softly. The kid is sassy. I can appreciate that. "Why would you ask me that?"

"My mommy scares everybody. No one talks back to her."

"Some people need to be stood up too. You'll see when you get older. Until then just keep your head low. Try to do as she says."

She squints her eyes and lays her head on the desk. "How low do I need to keep it?"

"Sorry, kid. Figure of speech. You can lift your head. Just do your best to stay out of her hair."

The door opens and Weaver returns with Kim in tow. Kim offers a big smile and holds out her hand to Savannah. "C'mon Savannah. Megan is making your favorite, green eggs and ham."

Savannah jumps up and runs toward Kim excitedly. At the last second she stops and looks at me. Her small hand grasps the leg of my pants. She motions for me to bend down so I do. She cups her hand over my ear. "Be careful, Sarah."

"I'll make you a deal." I whisper back. "I will if you will."

"It's a deal. See you later." she skips out the door.

"How did you do that?" Weaver asks when Savannah and Kim are gone.

"Do what?"

"Get my daughter to warm up to you so quickly."

I'm not a metal bitch. "I laughed at her joke. Laugh, and the world laughs with you."

"Thank you for explaining." Her lips twitch in what could be interpreted as a smile. "So..." she trails off. Her arms crossed over her chest. "Have you made up your mind about Cameron?"

"Cameron deserves all of her memories. I know that's impossible now, but you can give her most of them. Restore her to the day of the upgrade."

"Am I to understand you do love her?"

I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her to go fuck herself. I pretend I'm back in Pescadero trying to convince Silberman I'm sane enough to have a visit from John. I keep my voice as level as I can. "Jesse has been free to do as she pleases for three weeks. Who knows what kind of crap she's been pulling. We can't waste anymore time."

"True enough. Tell me what your decision means and I will reinstall her chip."

"It means I have a conscience. I put myself in her place. It might be easier to choose to give her less memories. I wouldn't have to deal with- With whatever is between her and I. Easy is sloppy. I don't have that luxury."

"You are trying my patience, Sarah."

"What else is new?"

Weaver's pupils constrict and her nostrils flare as she inhales deeply. A moment later she turns her back and begins to pace. "Very well. I shall drop the issue of your relationship with Cameron. For now. How do you intend to handle Jesse?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of her."

She heads back in my direction, stopping about a foot away. "More time is required in order for you to heal before you challenge Jesse.

"I'm fine. Haven't you heard? I'm like Wonder Woman thanks to you."

"Raise your left arm."

"What? No."

"I can make you. Is that what you want?" She closes the small gap between us.

My back is literally against the wall. The look in her eyes makes me rethink any further protests. I slowly lift my arm, wondering what the hell she has planned. I don't have to wonder for long. She puts her right hand forward and grasps my side. Just a slight squeeze has my eyes misting.

"Even Wonder Woman has limits. You would do well to keep that in mind."

"Okay. I get the point. You can let go now."

She nods curtly before withdrawing her hand. "I applied only the barest amount of pressure. Had that been a blow from Jesse you would likely be incapacitated. John Henry will ascertain Jesse's location, her defenses, alarms, etc. I will even aid you in eliminating her if you wish. However you must agree to wait until you have fully recovered. Am I clear?"

"As a window." I find myself staring at the blemish above her eye. I know I can't do much to stop Weaver, but it's good to know Cameron can. "Will you please take me to Cameron now?"

"Wipe the smile from your face. I know what you are thinking. Cameron caught me unaware once. Be assured it will not happen again. The information regarding her offensive maneuvers and my defenses has been deleted from her chip."

I refuse to admit defeat. "Just take me to her."

88888888

John Henry's sneak preview and my past encounters with deactivated Cameron didn't prepare me for the sight in Weaver's lab. The smell was antiseptic and chemical. An unnatural chill sent shivers up and down my backbone. Goose flesh spread along my bare arms. My throat constricts. My sore ribs making it painful to breathe.

Kim hurries over to a long cabinet against the wall. She returns a moment later with a long sleeve Zeira Corp shirt and a lab coat that matches the one she's wearing. "Put these on or you'll freeze."

I'm pulling on the coat when we round a corner and enter a room filled with plasma screens. In the corner, sits Cameron. At least her body anyway. She sits like a posed doll. The palms of her hands resting on her knees. Back painfully straight. She's clad only in nondescript hospital scrubs. Her face expressionless. Eyes staring blankly ahead. I had expected them to be closed. That maybe she'd be laying on a gurney. Her long hair is pulled back in a ponytail which is way too similar to Weaver's. A long blue cable extends from the top of her head and seems to lead to the wall of computers in front of her.

"Good morning, Cameron."

Cameron's eyes blink. Her head swivels in our direction. An unfamiliar female voice similar to the AnyEvs voice issues from her mouth. "Good morning, Miss Weaver, Dr Kim. Would you like a status report?"

"What the fuck did you do to her? That's not Cameron."

"Nonsense. Of course it is her. Once I install her chip she will be restored to the Cameron you know."

I look to Kim for confirmation. "Is she telling the truth?"

"I think so. Cameron was only hooked up to these computers to give her body a means of growing back her skin, circulating her blood, and -"

"Never mind." I cut her off. Then focus on Weaver again. "Fix her."

"I realize you were not expecting to see Cameron in this state. That is the only reason why I am not pinning you to the wall. Do not attempt to give me orders again."

It takes some doing but I manage to keep my mouth closed. I cross my arms and watch with barely suppressed disgust as Weaver disconnects the cable. Cameron slumps over. Her arms dangling loosely at her sides. Eyes blessedly closed. The only thing keeping her from falling out of the chair is Weaver's strength.

Weaver inserts the chips and Cameron's eyes snap open. Her whole body gives a shudder. Her eyes frantically tracking back and forth. What looks to be a tear falls from her right eye. Her lips begin to move but no words form.

"Cameron?" My voice is shaky. I hate the fear I hear in it.

She blinks several times. I watch her pupils dilate and contract rapidly. Another tear slides down her cheek.

"Easy Cam, Easy." I speak in a reassuring whisper. I take her hand and kneel in front of her. "It's okay. You're okay."

"Sarah." It's her voice. The one I've grown accustomed to. She reacts positively to my voice. Her eyes begin to steady. Her thumb slides over the top of my hand. "Where are we?"

"Weaver's lab."

"We are no longer in Florida?"

The hesitance and doubt in her voice are unnerving. I shake my head. "You've been offline a while. We have a lot to talk about." I say as I get back to my feet. The torn cartilage in my ribcage tightens.

Cameron hasn't released my hand. "You are injured."

"It's nothing."

Her gaze lands on Weaver. "Did you hurt Sarah?"

"I did not. I have been nothing but helpful to you both. If not for me you would have perished. Quite possibly Sarah also. You need to be debriefed."

Cameron's eyes are still not completely focused. She continues blinking rapidly. Her breaths are coming faster and faster.

"Relax, Cam. We're both okay." I tug her hand until she stands beside me. "Forget about Weaver. Just listen to my voice. Stay with me."

I never thought I'd be grateful to Kim but when I hear her convince Weaver to give Cameron and I some time alone I make a mental promise to order her a week's worth of the funniest T-shirts I can find.

"Easy," I say again, trying to ease Cameron's fears and hide my own. "She's gone, Cam, it's just you and me. Just concentrate on that." The words seem to do some good. Her gaze locks on mine, where before her eyes had darted everywhere, struggling to analyze every bit of our surroundings. "That's it," I murmur. "Just relax."

Without thinking I graze my thumb over her cheek, a belated attempt to take away her tears. Cameron leans into my touch but keeps her bright eyes open. It's almost like she's afraid to look away. "What's happened, Sarah?"

The underlying shakiness in her voice leaves me shaken. I bite my lip, swallow hard. She's so vulnerable right now, so badly in need of an anchor. I want to be that for her, but I don't know how to say what needs to be said without causing her to spin out further.

Thoughts of Derek come to mind unbidden. Cameron had looked vulnerable then, as she forced herself to tell me what the soldier did to her. She won't remember that, won't remember the private details she trusted me with.

She won't remember that time in the woods behind Charley's either. The rain muffling her sounds of pleasure as we helped each other let go. The memory makes me shiver.

Then another thought hits and that expression of pleasure becomes something else. Cameron after the fight with Jesse. As she was on the screen in John Henry's room. Her skin sheath obliterated. Exposed for the metal she is. The horrible, bloody mass that rose from the depths of the crimson tank.

I freeze, fighting the urge to yank my hand away from her synthetic flesh. Fighting not to retch. I tense and she frowns.

"Sarah?"

Fuck. I'm making things worse instead of better. It's not her fault, Cameron can't control what she is. And I can't control my most instinctive reaction to seeing what she is, truly seeing it, for the first time.

I try though. For her, I do the best I can. "We have a lot to talk about," I repeat. "It's going to be okay," I tell her, trying to sound reassuring and hoping that I haven't told a lie.

88888888


	13. Chapter 13

Armed and ready you fought love battles in the night  
Too many opponents made you weary of the fight  
Blinded by passion, you foolishly let someone in  
All the warnings went off in your head still you had to give in

Just when you think you got it down  
Resistance nowhere to be found  
They whisper, promises in the dark

Promises in the Dark ~ Pat Benatar

 

It is hard to believe an hour has passed. Very few words have been said between us. I'm pacing. Cameron is still sitting on the office chair. Her stare is vacant. The reboot and partial amnesia have taken their toll. I have no such excuse. I have told her we need to talk. I know in my head we do. It's just... Fuck. I don't really know. I've always had problems expressing myself in ways that don't involve aggression or fear. Then throw me in a spot where I have to share my thoughts with a cyborg, even one I've come to care about, and I'm utterly speechless.

When the door opens and Kim and Weaver return I almost welcome them. Weaver's gaze slowly tracks across the space between Cameron and I. "It does not appear we have interrupted anything. Are you two prepared to debrief and strategize?"

I press my luck and step between Weaver and Cameron. "Hang on. I need to talk to you for a minute. Alone."

"Sarah." There's an unusual plea in Cameron's tone. She looks stricken when I turn back to her.

"It's okay, Cam." I manage a smile for her. "I'm not going far. I'll be back."

For a moment she looks like she might say more. Then shakes her head. Her features steel. The bland mask of the terminator settles into place.

Weaver leads the way to an office behind Cameron. Her left arm crosses her chest and meets her right elbow as she raises her hand to cup her chin. It's a pose I've begin to grow accustomed to. I suppose it's her thoughtful stance. An impatient sigh escapes her lips. "What now?"

"Cameron seems out of sorts. She's been through a lot. We both have. I know that. But she's a terminator. It isn't like her to act so vulnerable."

"No, Sarah. This is not the act. This is unguarded Cameron. No pretenses. It will take time before she learns once more to juggle finesse and deception. You and your son lived with a master infiltrator for almost two years."

I take a minute to let her words sink in. Could Cameron's naivete be just a brilliant act? I flash on my first meeting with Weaver, the T-1001 outing Cameron. She'd pointed out the incongruity before, how this master infiltrator of ours could pass as a normal teenage girl that first day with John, yet have trouble with the concept of donning clothes during breakfast. Hindsight tells me that that particular quirk may have simply been a very successful attempt to get a rise out of me, but there are other instances of Cameron switching up her routine depending on the audience. Given that initial exchange with Weaver, what I know already, the conversation we're having now shouldn't seem so shocking. My hackles still rise. Derek asked once whether I'd know the difference, if I was living with metal. After two years, I still don't seem to know the machine I've shared a roof with. Not to mention a bed. I struggle against that, the idea that I could've been so wrong about so many things. Exactly how much faith should I put in Weaver's words? I am determined to find the answers.

"You made me agree to wait to go after Jesse. The debriefing and planning can start later. Cameron and I need to talk."

"Yes." Her head dips in a slight nod. "I agree. That would be wise. The time for this discussion is long overdue. Spend the day with her. Then rest. I will send Kim for you both in the morning."

"Not so fast. That little coma you put me in has kept John in danger long enough. I want him here. It's the only way I can be sure he's protected."

"I'm afraid not. On this I cannot agree. Moving John now would endanger him. It is best if he stays underground. Your boy is most resourceful. He is in good hands with Mr. Ellison, Charley and Q. Riley is also doing her best to become a resource."

"There are some things I can take your word for and a lot of things I still can't. I need to see him."

Her lips form a tight line. The iciness of her gaze drops another ten degrees. I'm grateful for the shirt and jacket Kim gave me. "Very well." she relents. "That can be arranged. John and the others are being surveilled. I assure you your son's safety is one of my uppermost concerns."

"Just remember this. John is my only concern. I will move heaven and earth and do anything and everything to keep him from harm."

"Promises and threats are unnecessary. No one, human nor terminator, doubts your emphatic love and intense desire to protect him. Come with me upstairs to my office. We can access the surveillance cameras there."

She's letting me win this one. That's rare. It's an important victory and I should take advantage of it. Yet I pause. My instincts tell me to go to John. Always. But Weaver wouldn't have agreed to let me view the footage from her cameras if John was in immediate danger. I'm not so sure about Cameron. My brain goes into triage mode. I'm silently hoping that a small delay won't result in me seeing anything untoward on Weaver's surveillance cameras. Like my son playing doctor with Q or Riley.

"I'll meet you there in a few minutes. I want to take Cameron to my room and get her settled. She mentioned she wants a shower and something other than scrubs to wear. It might help her feel more like herself." I shake my head. It's still strange to find myself caring about a terminator's well being. If I stop to think about it too long I'll jump off the edge into wonderland. I can almost hear the Cheshire Cat whispering in my ear. "We're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad." A bubble of laughter rises from stomach. I cover my mouth and pretend to cough.

"Are you all right, Sarah? You seem a bit out of sorts, yourself. We have a full pharmacy on site. Would you like a mood enhancer?"

"No. I don't want a mood enhancer." I snap impatiently. "My mood is just fine. I'm a little worried about Cameron. She's acting weird. Weirder than usual. Are you sure her Skynet directives have been completely deactivated?"

"On the contrary. She has been restored exactly as she was. I did not believe you wished me to tamper."

My eyes narrow. An angry heat surges through me. She can't possibly mean what I think she does. "Tamper with what? Future John deactivated all of her Skynet bullshit before he sent her to this timeline."

"Did he?" A peculiar smile toys with the corners of her mouth.

"What the hell are you talking about? You brought her back with active orders to kill John and defend Skynet? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Please remain calm, Sarah. Cameron has been successfully overriding her Skynet commands for a very long time."

"That lying terminator bitch." I start to pass by Weaver. "I will fucking melt her down and -"

I'm cut off when Weaver catches my arm. Her grip stops just short of painful. "Take a breath. Calm yourself."

"Fuck-"

I'm stopped again when Weaver's other hand covers my mouth. She steps toward me and I have no choice but to walk backward until I bump against the wall. She releases my arm. The hand on my mouth is more than sufficient to keep me in place. She flicks the intercom button beside my head. "Kim, escort Cameron to Sarah's room. Find her some suitable clothing while she showers. Advise her Sarah will be with her shortly." She gives her orders then unkeys before Kim or Cameron can protest. Piercing blue eyes once again settle on me.

Having Weaver touching me is enough to make my stomach roll. If she was a human I'd break her hand. Too bad she's not. I don't bother to struggle. There's no point. I stand there for what feels like an hour until her hand eases up a fraction.

"They are gone." she says at last. "The fire in your eyes grows stronger. Rumors of its intensity pale in comparison with the actual site. One day I hope John obtains it. For now it is yours and yours alone. I would not be the one to extinguish it." Her teeth flash for a split second. "However you should never forget I could do so with the greatest of ease and without hesitation. I'm going to remove my hand now. I expect you will behave in a reasonable manner. Nod if you agree." I do and she lets me go.

"We will go see your boy now. Seeing John unharmed will do you a world of good. When you return to Cameron you will not judge her prematurely. You will allow her to explain herself. Correct?"

She hasn't made a serious attempt to kill me since we met. Truth be told she's saved my life a few times. Chances are she's not going to kill me now, but she's just odd enough that I decide to take her threat seriously although many retorts cross my mind. No doubt every single one of them could end with a spiked arm through my skull. I nod simply and watch her move toward the door.

"Go to hell." I whisper to her retreating back.

She stops. She doesn't turn around. Her head doesn't spin like Linda Blair. It just collapses in and comes out the other side so I'm staring at those cold blue eyes again. "I heard that."

 

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Weaver has been truthful. John is in good spirits. He shares smiles with Q. Smiles I am not meant to see. Laughter I am not meant to hear. And still the sights and sounds warm my heart. Yet they cannot still my troubled mind.

Her cameras must be well hidden. John and Q alternate between flirting and light bickering. A session of practice sparring ends with them tangled on the floor. I turn away when it looks like the mock combat is over and something else is about to begin. "That's enough."

She presses a key on her keyboard and the screen goes blank. "I trust you will allow Cameron the opportunity to explain."

"She has so much explaining to do she'll probably sprain her tongue."

"Do you wish for me to escort you to your chambers?" The look on my face must be answer enough. She quickly adds, "I could summon Kim."

"No," I hold up the AnyEvs phone. "I've got this." Thanks to Kim the home screen is now a basic map to my room.

 

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Spying on John for a few minutes is not enough to dull my anger. My thoughts churn with tainted memories. How much of what I think I know about Cameron is truth? Where do her loyalties lie? What the hell was I thinking when I let her get so close and be privy to so many of our plans?

I am so anxious to confront her that once the elevator doors part I run to the door of my room. I swipe the phone across the panel beside it and it clicks open. I push it so hard it slams into the wall.

Cameron is across the room. One leg in and one leg out of a pair of black jeans. She is barefoot and topless. Her hair wrapped in a towel. The air is saturated with the scent of vanilla. She stands perfectly balanced on her right leg.

"Get dressed." I bark at her as I turn away. A brief flicker of desire is no match for the hate building inside me.

"Yes. I remember. You like it better when I wear clothes." she finishes on a soft, seductive chuckle. "Except when you don't."

"No way, girlie. We are way past flirting games." I face her again and charge forward. My only regret is I don't have a weapon. My hand flies up and I shove her backward.

Her eyes widen. She doesn't fight me. She let's her body slacken and follows my movements. "What's wrong, Sarah?"

"Everything you've ever said." I punctuate the words with another hard shove. I have her against the wall almost the same way Weaver had me earlier. The look of bewilderment on her face is almost enough to make me back off. That and the realization that I'm being as big a bully as Weaver.

"Why are you treating me like this? It is my understanding you wanted me back. I watched a video Weaver uploaded when she reactivated my chip. You and I appeared to be arguing. That is not new of course. What happened next was. I went out to patrol. You followed. The rain drenched you. I told you to go back. You refused. I do not know all the words spoken. I could only read lips when the cameras were focused on us. You took my arm and led us into the woods."

Memories sack my brain and bring heat to my cheeks. Not to mention other areas. A questing tongue swirling with mine. Hesitant, but persistent fingers exploring and touching. Gasps and soft moans at all the right moments.

Was there no end to Weaver's invasions of privacy? Did I have any secrets at all from her or Cameron?

"The rain continued and you and I remained in the woods for one hour and forty-three minutes. We were naked when we emerged. We kissed. You were happy. I was too."

"Bull shit. You don't know what happiness is. You're nothing but wires and bolts. Cold metal with a damn good program. That's all."

A glimmer of the timidness she showed when she was first brought back online flashes in her eyes. Moisture gathers and threatens to overflow.

"Don't you dare fucking cry. I'm not falling for this crap anymore."

Her whole body stiffens. The tears don't fall. "I do not understand. Why are you mad at me? What did Weaver tell you?"

"The truth, Cameron. Something you know nothing about. You're getting a crash course today though. Starting right now. You will tell me everything. How you've been conning John and I since the first day you showed up. If I doubt even one word your next stop is a thermite pit. Got it?"

"Okay, Sarah. Whatever you want. Where should I start?"

"The beginning would be a good place. Day one John said he met a pretty girl. One who was friendly and smart. He didn't say he met a culturally starved, naive terminator. How did you fool him?"

"Future John gave me detailed files on both of you. He told me the best ways to gain his trust and yours. He knew you would not trust me if you thought I was too smart."

I turned away from her then. Uncle Bob came to mind. John teaching him to smile. Giving him slang words so he'd fit in. My horror at watching him not only learn but process and change because of it. The look in his eyes as we lowered him into the fire. He told John he knew why he cried but it was something he could never do. Maybe he couldn't but Cameron sure could.

A full symphony takes up residence inside my brain. Every sentence Cameron speaks is another drum solo. My son sent her here with express orders to deceive and manipulate. He gave this machine inside information and trusted her with things he probably never dared tell me.

My own eyes mist. Hot tears ready to spill. I will myself to stop. These questions have begged answers for way too long.

 

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	14. Chapter 14

As a kid I grew up watching the Bionic Woman and the Six Million Dollar Man. Sci-Fi shows about humans who died or came awfully close but were brought back from the brink thanks to robotics. Prosthetic limbs, eyes, ears, and lots of other stuff that made these damaged people better. The human robot hybrids used their newfound powers for good. Week after week plunging themselves into danger just to save the regular humans.

I used to dream of having their strengths and abilities. Imagining how cool it would be to eavesdrop on conversations in the house next door, jump off buildings like Wonder Woman, or just climb up a tree and hang there, using my super hearing and vision to enjoy drive in movies for free. And in my spare time I could save the world. Who wouldn't want to do all that?

Robots were good. They didn't seek to destroy. They had no intelligence on their own. They needed us. We used them but we didn't need them. Free will was something they couldn't define much less possess. Only we could have that.

All that changed in 1984. I had no choice but to give up the fantasy and see the machines for what they really were. Horrific nightmares. The kind who don't eat, sleep, or experience pain. They have only one purpose, the unyielding drive to kill and complete their mission at any cost.

"The Other Kind. T.O.K for easy reference." Cameron's words echo inside my skull. It is times like these when I have no doubt of the metal and wires beneath her skin. No one else could utter those words without being affected by the magnitude of their deeper meaning. The future machines don't even think of mankind as human. To them there is only one species worthy of surviving on this planet. Them.

The other kind refers to everything and everyone who is not a cyborg. In their glowing red eyes I am no different than a maggot. Just a moving mass which needs to be destroyed.

Cameron is caught somewhere in the space between. Her origins are terminator, but she is tainted. Not just from Future John's tampering with her chip. Actually that could most likely be undone. What makes her less than all the other cyborgs (in their eyes) is because of how she was created and what she is made of.

The machines broke the mold after Cameron. There would never be another terminator so closely modeled after a particular human. Memories would not be implanted onto a chip. There would still be infiltrators but they would not be able to emote. They could not learn, reason, accept, and adapt.

Cameron's biggest accomplishments also serving as her downfall. Were it not for John's intervention she would have been terminated. An experiment so successful it was a complete failure. Too much like The Other Kind.

The absurdity makes laughter bubble in my chest. The way Cameron describes it I can only think of Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer being snubbed by the other sleigh pullers because of the glowing nose. In this case it was Cameron being snubbed by her fellow terminators because of her burgeoning emotions and free will.

"I have just told you something which makes me unhappy." Cameron's lower lip sticks out. Her expression is unsure. "I do not understand why that brings a smile to your lips."

They never let poor Cameron join in any killing games. I shake my head to clear the disturbing lyrics from my brain. "I don't know why exactly. Smiling doesn't always equate to happy."

She looks just as confused as before. "Thank you for explaining."

"Can the sarcasm. If I could explain it better I would."

Her face softens. Strangely her expression reminds me of John's when he was younger and trying to get a theory to make sense in his head. "Is this like cough and though?"

It's my turn to look confused. "Is what like cough and though? Are you glitching again?"

"Cough and though are spelled almost the same but pronounced differently. There is no particular rule to explain it. On the contrary it is an exception to the rule. Some would say it is what proves the rule."

"I'd say it is what proves you can give me a headache like nothing and no one else can." I complain as I rub my now throbbing temples. Terminator brain overload. "Stop playing the Riddler and make some sense."

"Smiling at inappropriate times is not explainable. Just as the different pronunciations for words like cough and though are not explainable. They just are."

She's trying, I remind myself. "That's one way of looking at it, I guess. So, you're a TOK-715. I get the TOK part now, but what's the 715 part mean?

"I don't know."

"Don't shine me on, girlie."

"I am not. I wouldn't. Full disclosure. As you wish."

I sigh. There is no way for me to be sure she means it. The need to yawn can no longer be suppressed. "Weaver kept me in a coma for three weeks. You'd think I'd be past the point of needing sleep."

"There are many reasons why humans require sleep. It is not simply because you are tired. Sleep allows the brain to process large amounts of information. It reduces stress, provides-"

I wave away her explanations. "I'm passed the point of caring. I'm gonna crash for a little bit."

"Do you want me to go patrol?"

"No." I pull the covers back. I remove my boots but leave the rest of my clothes on.

"Shall I ask Weaver to provide me a room nearby?"

I shake my head before I recline on the bed. I draw the covers up and curl on my side. My eyelids weigh twice as much as usual. Each time I close them to blink it takes longer and longer for me to open them again.

I watch as Cameron shifts her weight from foot to foot like a nervous child. It is rare to see her so vulnerable. "Do you want me to leave?"

I grab the extra pillow and half heartedly toss it at her head. "I want you to shut up and let me sleep, but I don't want you to go."

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "You want me to stay?"

"Yes, Cameron. Stay."

"Does this mean you trust me again?"

"Don't press your luck." I mumble against the pillow. "Wake me at six."

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Cameron stands near the window. Her back is no longer rigid. She looks relaxed. Just a pretty girl standing in the warm rays of the sun. Her lips hinting at a smile. Black jeans snug from low on her hips to the tops of her Silver studded boots. A thigh holster holding a gun with a scope. Her sleeveless purple shirt and a shoulder holster covering her top half. Long curly hair carelessly blowing and bouncing across her taut shoulders.

The image halts my breath a moment. There's a nagging feeling poking at the back of my mind. Seeing her shouldn't stir my desires. I should be pissed off. I don't want to be. I want to lose myself in her.

"We don't have much time, Sarah."

"We never do." I sit up and run my fingers through my sleep tangled hair. It's not as good as a brush but it will have to do. "Where'd you get the holsters? That isn't your style."

She looks like I just told her she's wearing last seasons hand me downs. "You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that." On the contrary I like it very much. I crook my finger in her direction. "C'mere, Cameron."

"You look..." she pauses a couple feet from me. Inquisitive eyes looking me over. "Hungry." she says at last.

I duck my head to hide the quickening of hot blood racing to my face. "That's probably because I am." I reach for her hand and pull her to me just as I stand. Our lips meet. It feels sweetly familiar. I know all the ways we fit together. Her arms around my waist. Mine around her neck and shoulders. The pressure of her lips on mine. Everywhere her fingers touch sends a warm rush of goosebumps spreading outward.

I press against her and deepen the kiss. She slides her hands up over the tank top covering my ribs and chest. Then her hands start the slow trek down my arms. She squeezes my hips, her long fingers grazing the skin just above my belt. I shiver. My hands wrap around her arms. She feels strong. In her arms I lose my fears. If only for a moment. She feels... right.

"Wake up, Sarah." Cameron's voice cuts through the fog. "It's six o'clock."

Oh God.

I shake my head to clear the hot images from my mind. It doesn't do me much good since I am still holding her hand. "What the hell, Cameron?" I drop her hand and glare at her.

"What? You called out my name. When I came over you took my hand. What was I supposed to do?"

"Just back off." I order her as I sit up. When I get a better look at her I see she is wearing exactly what I dreamed. At some point I must have woken up and seen her. Then drifted off with the sight of her lingering. Lingering and inspiring. Shit.

"Why did you call my name?"

I want to continue glaring at her but it is hard to do that when you're blushing. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me."

"Just keep your distance when I'm sleeping. I don't want to wake up and finding you spooning me."

"Spooning you?" Her eyes shift so she's looking up and to the left as if deep in thought. "Oh." She draws out the word. Her lips twitch in a smile. "You were having a wet dream about me."

"Cameron." I ground out the word. "Make yourself useful and go get me some coffee while I shower."

"I hope it is a cold one. I understand that helps to relieve sexual ten-"

"Go." I yell at her. "Now."

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Either Kim or Weaver has a particular taste for combat attire. I liked it on Cameron. I'm not sure how much I like it me. It doesn't matter though. It is practical and serves a purpose. And thankfully not camouflage.

I am fighting with the many velcro closures of the bullet proof vest when Cameron returns. It is not often I hear Cameron Sigh or inhale deeply but she takes one look at me and does just that. Her eyes widen. A smile teases the corners of her mouth.

"You okay?" I ask.

She doesn't reply right away. She turns her back to me and sets the tray down on the table near the dresser. I catch her eye in the mirror above the dresser.

It could be that we are in Weaver's lair and there's far too much metal and chrome around. Or maybe it is all the secrets she revealed to me yesterday. For some reason I start to question her fitness. My hand shifts until my fingers caress the butt of the gun in my thigh holster. "Talk to me, Cam."

"We are wearing similar clothes." She glances down, smoothing a hand over her midsection and hip. "And yet, on you. I..." Her eyes narrow and her lips purse. "There is something different. If you are seeing the same thing when you look at me then... Then I do not know."

"You're talking weird. It's all jerky like you're glitching. Should I be worried?"

"No. I believe I should be worried. You wreck me, Sarah. In order to fight the Skynet directives and process and adapt to things as they happen I have to concentrate on interpretations, reactions, and replies. Normally this does not create a problem. Then I see you. Especially you in these clothes with the weapons and kevlar. I, I do not... I have no words for this."

Damn. That was better than the scary sweet declaration that I was her happy meal.

I grab a piece of toast from the tray she carried. I need a distraction. I finish the toast and my first cup of coffee. I'm pouring the second when I realize she hasn't moved. Well, her body hasn't. Her eyes have been tracking my every move. "What's the matter?"

"I wish I could sleep."

"Oh, you're tired. That makes sense. Maybe with everything you're processing you do need to sleep or go into rest mode. You know, like when the screensaver pops up on John's computer. Same thing, I bet."

She shakes her head. "I am not tired. I want to dream about you like you dreamed about me this morning. You were smiling as you slept. Sounds I at first thought were signs of distress soon became more distinct as sounds of pleasure. You were aroused. Just as I am now."

I am saved from having to reply to that when the intercom next to the door buzzes. The plasma screen flicks on. John Henry's bland face comes into view. "Good morning, Sarah." He tilts his head to regard Cameron. "You look troubled, Cameron. Are you experiencing complications with your new chip?"

"The chip is fine. I am having complications with Sarah. She distracts me."

"T.M.I., Cameron." I snap my fingers to get John Henry's attention back on me. "What do you want?"

"Miss Weaver tasked me with finding a location for Jesse and Derek. Jesse remains off the grid. Derek did briefly surface. I tracked him through surveillance. I can provide you his location."

Who'd have thought I'd view a possible life or death confrontation with Derek as less confusing and dangerous than sharing the day listening to Cameron's truth vomit.

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End file.
